


Return to Campora

by firephly



Category: The Secret of the Unicorn Queen - Josepha Sherman
Genre: Badass!Sheila, Multi, Post-Moonspell, References to Character Death, Return to Arren, Struggling!Sheila, magic magic magic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-18
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:24:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 65,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22306360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firephly/pseuds/firephly
Summary: Seven years have passed since Sheila returned from her adventures with the Unicorn Queen. She grieves the loss of her friends and so much more. Dr. Reit decides that an intervention of sorts is needed if Sheila is to have any hope at happiness, even if that happiness is in another world.
Relationships: Darian/Sheila McCarthy
Comments: 13
Kudos: 5





	1. Visions of the Lost

**Author's Note:**

> This story was begun many years ago (first 6 chapters/~25K words), but left to linger in abandonment for many moons. However, based on some recent inspiration (thank you Selynne!) and my own personal re-focus to writing in general, I've decided to pick it back up again. Therefore, for anyone who read the preexisting chapters in the past, you may notice some minor differences. I'm trying to strike that balance of correcting some blatant issues with not getting too perfectionistic. Ah, my life-long struggle. ;-)
> 
> So...my current plan is to clean-up/post the existing chapters, and then move on to writing/posting new chapters, with updates at least weekly, if not more frequently. I'm working without a beta, so any errors are all mine. I love feedback, so I highly encourage comments along the way! Ok...without further ado, I give you: Return to Campora...

Dr. George Reit held his tattered hat in his equally weathered hands and glanced around the bar. His searching eyes finally settled on the young woman, dressed head to toe in black, who was sitting at the back-corner table. A veil of long auburn braids shadowed her face as she hunched over something on the table, but he knew immediately that he had found her.

He asked the bartender for whatever she was having. The meaty man raised a brow, but ultimately served him a whiskey and coke.

“Isn’t she a little young for you?”

Dr. Reit looked scandalized.

“I beg your pardon. It’s nothing of the sort.” With a huff, he took the drink and turned away from the frowning barkeep.

Dr. Reit knew he was slinking around rather suspiciously, but he didn’t want to approach the young woman just yet. Her former roommate had said that she had changed dramatically over the past year, leading up to her finally quitting University a mere month before graduation, but he wanted to see for himself. He watched as she interacted with the man at the table.

~*~

“You’re having problems with your marriage.” Sheila stared at the tarot cards laid out before her, trying to ignore the man’s open expression of skepticism.

“It doesn’t take a psychic to figure that one out.”

She looked up at him and narrowed her darkly outlined eyes.

“You can leave, or I can continue.” Sheila took a healthy swallow of her drink. The man stared back at her for a moment and then nodded at her to continue. She turned over another tarot card from the deck and examined it closely. “Betrayal, a great sense of betrayal.” She sighed and looked back up at the man. “Your wife is with another.” This part always went badly, and she was in no mood today to take any attitude. He was already shaking his head in denial.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I’m right.”

“No, you’re not,” his voice rose in the din of the smoky bar. Before he could pull back, she grabbed his arm. He flinched and tried to break free, but her grasp was like an iron cuff. She flinched too at the full skin-on-skin contact, but now she could see clearly what had only been a cloudy feeling before. Sheila pulled the man halfway across the table and whispered harshly in his ear.

“Your wife is at the Lennox hotel, room 213 right now. She is having sex with your brother Luke. He has blond hair, brown eyes, has a long jagged scar beneath his belly button. Your wife is 5 foot 4, brown shoulder-length hair, has a tribal tattoo on the small of her back.” Sheila glared at the man, who was now looking frightened. “And she likes to be on top.” She shoved him back into the seat and released him.

“You’re a fucking freak!” The man pulled fifty dollars out of his pocket, threw it on the table, and scrambled out of the booth.

“Yeah, but I’m always right,” she mumbled to herself, tossed back the rest of her drink, and stuffed the cash into her pocket. As she waved to the bartender for another, someone new joined her at the table. She looked across the table with momentary disinterest, which quickly turned to surprise as she recognized the old man. “Dr. Reit…”

“Hello Sheila.” He smiled and reached to touch her hands, but she pulled back quickly.

“You don’t want to do that.” She busied herself, collecting the tarot cards.

“Why is that, dear girl?” He leaned forward, concern etched across his face.

“Because—” She stopped herself and shook her head of waist-length braids. He wasn’t part of her life anymore. She didn’t owe him any explanations. “Never mind. What do you want Dr. Reit?”

“I came to visit you at school, but Karen told me that you had left.” His tone came across as light and nonjudgmental, but Sheila knew he was anything but.

“Yup, I did.”

“Can I ask why?”

“Because a piece of paper signed by the University means nothing to me. It was time to leave.”

Dr. Reit nodded.

“Perhaps it was. But do you think that’s what your parents would’ve wanted?”

Sheila felt like a sledgehammer had been brought down on her chest. She stared at him for a long moment and choked, “Not fair Dr. Reit.” It didn’t matter that he was probably right, that they would have wanted her to finish school. They would have wanted nothing but the best for their daughter. They would have taken one look at her right now and been so disap—

No. Sheila shook her head and gritted her teeth. What they wanted no longer mattered. Dr. Reit had no right to try and manipulate her with their memory. She didn’t need any more pain from the old man. He had caused quite enough. She didn’t owe him anything, not even her attention.

Quickly, she gathered up her belongings and pushed herself out of the booth. Not responding to Dr. Reit’s appeals to stay and talk, she made a beeline for the back door. She slammed it open and stepped into the night, breathing in big gulps air. As she walked rapidly down the alley she heard his footsteps as he hurried after her.

“Sheila, wait!”

Reluctantly, she stopped but refused to turn around. She pulled her coat on, to fend off the spring evening’s chill, and looked up at the nearly full moon. She felt a pang as her thoughts traveled momentarily to Arren. Sheila couldn’t count how many times she had tried and failed to reach her mind out to Illyria and Darian since that night she had returned 7 years ago. But, by now, everyone she had known there must be long dead due to the time difference – where 6 months in their world was only a few hours in hers. She closed her mind off to these dark thoughts and took a deep breath.

Dr. Reit finally caught up to her, his old body gasping for air. Her gaze shifted down from the moon to the man now standing in front of her. His white hair stuck out in large tufts underneath his hat. His face held a few more wrinkles since last she had seen him at her parents’ funeral three years ago, but his eyes still held an alertness that had once inspired her to love science and experiments. Once he caught his breath and could finally stand up straight, he looked at her with apologetic eyes.

“I’m sorry Sheila. That _wasn’t_ fair.”

She stared back, her mouth closed tight.

“You must be going through a lot right now.”

“You have no idea.” She adjusted her bag on her shoulder, itching to walk away from this unwelcome reminder of her past.

“I want to help you.”

 _Great_ , she thought, _he wants to fix me. To be my savior._ It was far too late for that.

“There’s no possible way you can help me Dr. Reit.” She sighed. “Go home.”

“Now see here, I promised myself that I would look after you when your parents perished in that unfortunate accident. You had been doing so well, studying biology at the University, keeping active, making friends. But now you are falling apart, and I cannot stand by as an impartial observer. What’s happened to you, Sheila?”

“What’s happened to me?” She let out a mirthless laugh. “I’ll tell you what’s happened to me. Every goddamn time I touch someone all I can see is horrible things happening to them or their family or their friends. And of course, I made the mistake of telling people what I saw, and now everyone thinks that I’m a complete lunatic.” She laughed again. “Who knows, maybe I am! I’m a whacko!” She spun around with arms out, yelling to the sky. “Send me to the loony bin!” Sheila lowered her voice to an angry growl. “I can’t have a real relationship with anyone because of these damn visions. No friends. No lovers. No nothing Dr. Reit. But you know what?” She held her hands up in a gesture of futility. “I’m 21 years old and responsible for myself. So you’re off the hook. No need to worry about little old me.” With that statement echoing off the bricks of the buildings, she strode out of the alley towards her car, ignoring Dr. Reit’s pleas behind her.

~*~

Sheila trudged down the stairs from her fourth-floor studio apartment to the lobby. She still couldn’t believe the nerve of Dr. Reit coming by last night and laying his judgment on her about leaving school. Not that she was completely surprised. She had half expected to hear from him ever since she’d left her college life behind, but she was still shaken from the encounter.

Once upon a time, he had been like family. His approval had meant the world to her, but not anymore. Ever since he’d refused to allow her back through the transport device, she’d cut her ties with the man. She had begged him repeatedly, to no avail. She had even tried to sneak back into his lab, but he had not only alarmed the room, but had also removed a key component that allowed it to work.

All of that would have been bad enough, but the day after her failed break-in attempt, he had done the unthinkable. He’d had her sit and watch as he completely disassembled the machine. With every nut, bolt, and wire he removed, her spirit broke a little more. After he’d dropped the last piece of metal into his work bin, he’d handed her a tissue and told her that it was for the best, and that she’d feel better in time. She had trudged home with her heart shattered into a million pieces and had never returned.

Eventually, his calls and letters had tapered off. However, she would always receive a birthday card from him every year. So, when he’d shown up at her parent’s funeral, she hadn’t been surprised. She’d even managed to greet him and thank him for coming. She’d held back the desire to tell him that he’d been wrong. Time hadn’t healed her wounds. Seeing him reaffirmed that, as memories of Arren threatened to overwhelm her once again.

Sheila was jolted from her reminiscence by Bob, her creepy landlord.

“Hey Shirley, you owe me some rent I believe.” Bob slipped out from behind the front desk with his hand held out.

“It’s Sheila,” she mumbled as she plunged her hand into pocket. “Here.” She passed him a wad of cash, which he immediately began counting. 

“You’re two hundred bucks short.” He pocketed the money and stood between her and the front door. Sheila leveled him with her most annoyed stare.

“Well, Bob, if you don’t let me go to work you’ll never see the rest of the rent.” Sheila walked around him and headed out the front door and towards her barely drivable Chevy.

She turned the key at least a dozen times before the engine turned over. Praying for light traffic, she started her short commute. The last thing she needed was a bill for a tow. At every red light, she held her breath and stroked her steering wheel with encouraging words.

“Come on, baby, just a little further…”

Ten minutes later, as she pulled up to the curb at work, her car gave a shudder and stalled before she could turn it off. For a moment she rested her head back and stared out at the neon green _Murphy’s Pub_ sign. For the last month she had taken up residence at the back table, taking in clients referred to her by Brian Murphy, the owner and main bartender.

He had seen her abilities in action when Sheila had been working for him as a server. She had accidentally brushed hands with a customer and blurted out another accurate vision before she could stop herself. The customer had been rattled but tipped her generously. Brian, never one to toss up an opportunity, suggested Sheila take up residence in a booth in exchange for a percentage of her profits. _You’re a terrible waitress anyway. You piss off the customers with your attitude,_ he told her.

At first she’d felt insulted at his assessment, and also felt frightened at the idea of using her visions to make money, but that quickly faded as she realized that being a _psychic_ paid a heck of a lot better than bussing tables. Not to mention that nobody tried to grab her ass anymore.

Over the last several years she had grown a few more inches and had slimmed down even more than when she had been a warrior on the Steppes of Arren. To the casual observer she seemed to have a willowy grace, but when she moved she knew she seemed cat-like, stealthy and powerful. Underneath her dark makeup, her bulky black trench coat, and her hundreds of copper braids she was lither than ever.

Until a few months ago, she had been studying taekwondo. Her four-year search for _ki_ , being able to meet any challenge with calm and success, had come to a crashing halt when her visions began taking over her life. She recalled her instructor’s first lecture like it was yesterday - _taekwondo strives to develop the positive aspects of an individual's personality: Respect, Courtesy, Goodness, Trustworthiness, Loyalty, Humility, Courage, Patience, Integrity, Perseverance, Self-control, an Indomitable Spirit, and a sense of responsibility to help and respect all forms of life._

 _We can’t all be perfect_ , Sheila thought to herself as she slipped out of the car. The red belt that marked her achievement in taekwondo lay on the floor in the back seat of the Chevy, abandoned.

~*~

A crisply folded note lay on her usual table. As she opened it and let her eyes scan the page, a crease of suspicion formed between her eyes. The note read:

_Dear Ms. McCarthy, I would like you to perform a reading for me, however my limited mobility requires that you come to me. Would you please do me the honor of traveling to my lodging? I would, of course, pay you handsomely for your inconvenience. I am prepared to offer you $1000 for your services. Please be assured that I have no ill intentions towards you, Ms. McCarthy. I know that is a concern in this day and age. Sincerely, Mr. Regie Grote ~ Suisse Chalet, Suite 509._

“Have you seen this?” Sheila waved the bizarre note at Brian.

“Yup.”

“And? Where did it come from?”

“One of those delivery services dropped it off a few minutes ago.” He continued wiping down the counter, as if life was business as usual.

“Don’t you think it’s a little strange?” Sheila hopped up on one of the bar stools.

“Yeah.” He shrugged. “But if someone offered me a grand for 15 minutes of work I wouldn’t turn it down.” He looked up at her finally. “You aren’t going to turn it down are you?”

“Well, what if he’s a weirdo or something? The last thing I need is to be trapped in some guy’s hotel room.” At this, Brian laughed at her.

“Believe me, if anything, I would feel bad for the guy that tries to mess with you!”

“Good point.” Sheila sighed. “OK, I’ll go. At least then I won’t have to worry about next month’s rent. But if this dude is an ax murderer, you’re gonna owe me free drinks for life.”

Brian snorted, and Sheila headed back out the front door, hoping her Chevy would make the drive.

~*~

Sheila knocked curtly on the door of room 509, ready for trouble.

“One moment,” a familiar female voice called from inside. Sheila was still trying to place the voice when the door swung open. The first thing she saw was a set of big blue eyes staring back at her.

“Cookie?” Sheila said in disbelief.

“Sheila!” Cookie stepped forward and hugged her old friend before she could back away. Sheila patted Cookie’s back awkwardly, careful not to make skin-on-skin contact, and pulled away as soon as Cookie’s tight grip loosened. “Oh, come in.” Cookie motioned for Sheila to step through the door. After a moment of wariness, she entered the sprawling suit.

“This is nice.” Sheila ran her hand over a plush chair, not knowing what to say. She and Cookie had grown apart after high school. They rarely spoke on the phone. In fact, Sheila didn’t even have a current phone number for Cookie.

“I told my parents that I couldn’t possibly stay with my grandmother while I was in the city interviewing for jobs, so they were nice enough to get me a suite here for a few days.” Her enthusiasm was at the same level as ever. “I’m sooo excited to see you! Can I get you something to drink?”

“No thanks,” Sheila said cooly.

“Oh, ok.” Cookie looked a little deflated at Sheila’s lack of enthusiasm.

“Um, Cookie, maybe you could explain the note. If you wanted to meet me, why not just pick up the phone?”

“Well I’m afraid that’s my fault.” Dr. Reit stepped into the room from one of the adjoining bedrooms. Sheila’s hazel eyes turned hard.

“What’s going on here?” she demanded, piercing Cookie with a glare.

“We’re worried about you.” Cookie’s voice trembled slightly.

“I’m fine.” Sheila’s low tone was nearly a growl.

“All evidence to the contrary my dear.” Dr. Reit moved closer. “You have no family, no friends to speak of – except for us, of course. You live in that terrible rattrap, paying an obscene amount of rent. And I have to say, Sheila, that I’ve never seen you this unhappy.”

“Well, we can’t all be Miss Bubbles and Sunshine.” She threw a look at Cookie, intending her words to sting. They hit their target and Cookie’s eyes shimmered.

“This isn’t you Sheila.”

“Everybody keeps saying that,” Sheila chuckled. “But I don’t see any other me floating around.” In a moment of realization Sheila slapped her head with comic sarcasm. “I get it now – Regie Grot – rearrange the letters and you get – George Reit… very clever Dr. Reit. I’m worth anagrams now.”

“You are worth a lot more than that Sheila. I’m sorry for the deception, but I really needed to see you again.”

“So you two could stage your little intervention? No thanks.” Sheila turned for the door.

“I know about Arren!” Cookie blurted out. Sheila stopped in her tracks and swung around.

“What?”

“I told her everything.” Dr. Reit met her incredulous stare.

“At first I thought he was nuts. I mean I always thought he was nuts – sorry,” she apologized to the scientist, who waved off her apology. “But then he told me about the molecular acceleration transportation device and explained what happened when we were fourteen. It really explained a lot.”

“Well I’m happy for you,” Sheila said, not meaning it. “Now you know the big deep dark secret between me and Dr. Reit.” Sheila felt silly for the feeling of loss she felt over Cookie knowing about Arren. That secret was something she always carried with her and protected, and Dr. Reit had blurted it out as if he was giving her a tour of the laundry room.

“You were happy there Sheila.”

“Yeah, well I’m sure Dr. Reit didn’t forget to mention that everyone I ever loved there is long dead thanks to the little time difference.” Her voice caught, strained with emotion. “Excuse me.” She walked swiftly to the bathroom before they could see the tears brimming in her eyes. Leaving Illyria and Darian had been the second hardest thing she had ever done in her life, second only to burying her parents.

Sheila stared at her reflection in the mirror and took deep breaths, willing the tightness in her chest to ease. She would not let this rip her apart again. She’d shed too many tears over this. Death was a part of life. She knew this. Life moved on, and so would she.

After pulling herself together and checking her eye makeup in the mirror, she rejoined the two people she had once trusted. Dr. Reit had a familiar gleam of excitement in his eye that always accompanied a major inventor’s breakthrough. Cookie just looked nervous, wringing her hands and pacing the suite.

“I don’t know what to tell you guys. Yeah, my life’s not perfect, but it is what it is.”

Cookie and Dr. Reit gave each other an odd look that Sheila couldn’t quite decipher.

“I have something to show you Sheila.” Dr. Reit led her towards one of the bedrooms. As he opened the door, a blue light emanated from the room. Sheila knew as she followed him in that he had brought the transport device.

“But you took it apart. I saw you take it apart.” Her voice sounded hollow in her own ears.

“My dear, you know that I always make blueprints of my inventions. It was fairly quick work to put it back together again.”

“Why did you bring it here?” Sheila could feel her own heartbeat pounding in her chest.

“I’ve made some modifications.” He gestured for her to come closer to see the new dials on the side of the frame. Her curiosity got the better of her.

“What are these numbers?”

“Dates.” He smiled at Sheila. For a long moment she took in what he was telling her. “I have the device set to 7 years after you left Ryudain.”

“No.” She shook her head. “That’s not possible. You told me that wasn’t possible.”

“Well, I can’t _always_ be right.”

A dark look swept across Sheila’s face as she realized that she couldn’t go back. Seven years had done too much to change her. She couldn’t go back now. Surely everyone had moved on with their lives. And Sheila had to admit to herself that she felt ashamed of the woman she had become – moody, sullen, unfriendly. She could barely remember what it was like to be fourteen and happy.

Dr. Reit seemed to be reading her mind.

“You must go back child. For your own good.”

“No.” She crossed her arms, the blue light bouncing off her face, giving her a somber visage. Cookie’s voice piped up from behind her.

“I’m sorry Sheila, but it’s for the best.”

As Sheila glanced over her shoulder, the last thing she saw was Cookie’s face, tears streaming down her cheeks, and her arms already pushing Sheila into the vortex.

Suddenly Sheila was falling in a sea of stormy blue clouds.


	2. Into the Breach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sheila's back in Arren against her will. It's time to find out what's changed since she was last in this world.

Sheila landed hard on the packed-dirt ground with a muffled _oof_. Quickly, she stood up, dusting off her backside and fuming indignantly. How dare Cookie and Dr. Reit force her into that portal! As she glanced around her, nothing looked familiar. Rolling arid hills dotted with small dried-up bushes surrounded her as far as the eye could see.

“I bet he didn’t even test it,” she grumbled to herself and started walking in a random direction. She was bound to come across someone sooner or later.

At least, she hoped so.

The hot sun was beginning to rise and heat the air. Sheila tied her coat around her waist and pushed up her sleeves. Had she been prepared for walking in this kind of climate she wouldn’t have worn all black. She contemplated stripping down to her bra but scrapped that notion as she considered the sunburn that would result. Also, she didn’t want to send the wrong message to anyone that she might come across during her trek. She knew she’d just have to sweat it out.

After several hours her mouth felt like cotton. She’d not come across any signs of water, but she had found a road. At least, it could pass as a road in this world. The dirt seemed more tightly packed and the bushes had been cleared away. Sheila walked along this path mile after mile until the land turned more fertile and the smell of the ocean momentarily wafted to her. With renewed spirit, she trudged on, hopeful that she was getting closer to civilization. People tended to live near water.

As she put one leg in front of the next she decided to take stock of what she had with her. She still had her purse/bag. She took a mental inventory of everything inside: wallet, keys, the silly tarot cards she used to hide her abilities behind, a bottle of Excedrin for the headaches she seemed to get every day now, some take-out receipts, a picture of her parents, some makeup, and her journal. She had started keeping a journal after her parents died. As she became more distant from her friends and the visions started, she turned more and more to her journal as her only source of comfort. These pages would never pass judgment over the whirlwind of horrible thoughts and things she wrote down.

Finally, as the sun began to set, Sheila caught a glimpse of city walls in the distance. Immediately, she knew it was Campora. A sensation that she hadn’t felt in a long time came over her, excitement. Not that she was happy about Cookie and Dr. Reit’s deception, but being back here was beginning to stir up old memories.

However, as she thought about seeing Illyria and Darian and the others again, a pit of worry began to well up in her stomach. What if Dr. Reit didn’t send her to the right time? What if everyone she cared about here was already dead and buried? She tried to push down these thoughts, because it would be too terrible to imagine. Of course she had thought about their deaths many, many times before. But she didn’t think she could handle dealing with that loss so inescapably close.

And if they were alive but had merely moved on with their lives… Sheila closed down the thought, unable to follow it to its probably conclusion.

By what she guessed was about midnight she arrived at the city gates. Even though it was late, Sheila had been a little surprised that she didn’t see any other people making their way toward the city as she had gotten closer. Now, as she approached the gates, she began to see why.

It looked like the massive bronze gates had been blown off their hinges. Sheila couldn’t conceive of the amount of power it would take to do such a thing. They must’ve weighed several tons each.

With no one around to stop and question her, she walked into the city cautiously. For a moment, she felt a tingling sensation wash over her whole body as she entered. She stopped, looking around for something amiss, but then slowly proceeded forward when nothing else happened. In fact, she found the absolute silence of the city unnervingly earie.

Most of the buildings were nothing but piles of rubble. The streets were torn up in every direction. She slipped back into her coat, not only to fend off the chill in the air, but also to feel more buffered against the tragedy of the destruction of the once-beautiful city.

Although she already predicted that the castle would be abandoned as well, she headed toward it, hoping to find clues as to what had happened. Slowly, she picked her way over the rubble and toward that end of the city. As she grew closer, she could see that, although it had sustained much damage, the castle still stood.

Outside what had once been the stables, sat a water trough filled to the brim with rainwater. Heedless of the water’s freshness, Sheila drank until her mouth felt normal again. As she bent over the water she saw her reflection next to the pale full moon, nothing like the innocent fourteen-year-old girl that had once been a part of this world. Quickly, she abandoned the reflection and headed into the castle.

Statues had been knocked over, broken, and it looked like some were stolen as well, their podiums empty. Based on the minimal dust and cobwebs as she made her way through the corridors to the main hall, Sheila guessed that Campora had been attacked within the past couple of months.

She took a surprised step back as she almost stepped on a decomposing fallen soldier with Laric’s Eagle Crest on the arm of his uniform. Holding a hand up to her nose and mouth she stepped over the corpse and into the great hall.

Crumbled piles of stone were all that remained of Illyria and Laric’s thrones. The table where they had spent time strategizing and pouring over maps created by Laric’s men had been split in half. She walked over to the table and saw that whatever scrolls and paper had once been on the table had been burnt to ashes.

Sighing, Sheila sat down on the nearest pile of rubble to try and think, although thinking didn’t come easy. Her growling stomach reminded her that her blood sugar needed some immediate attention. She got back to her feet and tried to remember where the kitchens were located. Yes, they were downstairs.

As she headed toward the lower levels where the food was once stored, she hoped that whoever attacked had left at least a little something. She would eat pretty much anything at this point.

The storerooms unfortunately had been raided, but after some careful searching, Sheila whooped in triumph as she discovered a jar of olives hiding in the deep recesses of an old cupboard. Tossing caution to the wind, she devoured half the jar in minutes. Although she was still hungry, she closed the jar and saved the other half for later.

Exploring further, Sheila encountered more bodies and more destruction, but nothing remotely helpful. Finally, she decided to leave the palace and head toward the ocean to see if she could find another living soul.

“Stop right there,” a deep voice rang out and Sheila felt the tip of a sword poking the middle of her back. She dropped the jar of olives, which smashed on the stone floor. She groaned inwardly at the loss of food. “Turn around slowly,” the man commanded.

She followed his instructions and held her hands up as she turned to face him. Both of their eyes widened in recognition.

“Sheila?”

“Cam?”

He quickly lowered his sword.

“What are you doing here?”

“Oh that’s a very long story,” Sheila hedged. “What’s happened here? Where is everyone?”

“A lot has happened since you left us.” He began picking up the supplies he had set down. “Illyria should probably be the one to tell you all about it though. We are camped about a day’s ride north of here. Sheila nearly groaned at the thought of more traveling. Her legs were already throbbing.

“I really need a rest before we set out.”

“I can carry you,” Cam offered with a nonchalant shrug to his shoulders. At the look of horror on her face, he elaborated, “As an eagle, remember?”

“Oh, right.” She couldn’t believe that she forgot about the curse she had helped to lift for Laric and his men, and that they had retained the ability to morph into giant eagles at will. Cam did just that. The air around him brightened until Sheila was forced to close her eyes, and when she re-opened them he had transformed into the beautiful golden beast.

He gestured to the supplies with his wing and cawed at her. She got the message and loaded him up. After everything was securely in place she slid onto his back and held on tightly. Her stomach pitched as they rose quickly off the ground in a few strokes of his giant wings.

~*~

Sliding off of Cam’s back, her fingers stiff from the cold, Sheila looked around with apprehension. This was it. After all these years, she was finally going to see Illyria and the other riders again. Thoughts of seeing Darian churned in her already unsettled stomach. _He must have found someone else by now_ , she tried to think realistically.

More men with Laric’s crest on their shoulders crowded around her and Cam to help unload the supplies from the eagle’s back. A few of them glanced at her with curiosity, but no one spoke to her directly. She backed out of the way and collided with one of the men. As she turned to apologize, the words failed in her mouth.

If Darian had been handsome at the tender age of sixteen, he had become absolutely gorgeous at twenty-three. His chiseled jaw worked with equal futility until he could force out one word.

“Sheila…” He couldn’t have looked more surprised than he did at that moment.

“Darian…” Her surprise matched his. She thought she had been prepared to see him, but apparently not, at least not this quickly. She noticed that his voice held a deeper timber than she remembered, and he had a new scar above his left eye.

“Goddess Moon, whatever are you doing here?” He recovered quickly from his surprise and swept her up in a bear hug, spinning her around. Before she could stop him he planted a firm kiss on her cheek.

A vision tore through her mind causing her to cry out in pain. Instantly her knees went weak, and if it weren’t for Darian’s grip she would have fallen to the ground. She saw Laric in a far-off dungeon with a sinister purple energy crackling around him. Whatever the energy was, it was causing him unbelievable pain. Unwittingly, Sheila’s mind tuned into the pain. A scream ripped from her throat as the edges of her sight darkened until she slipped into unconsciousness.

~*~

“Sheila?… Sheila?”

Sheila climbed out of the fog in her mind to find herself lying on the ground with 8 concerned faces peering down at her: Myno, Darian, Zanara-Ki, Pelu, Jeno, Nanine, Lianne, and a beautiful little girl she had never met. As she sat up slowly, wincing at her latest headache, she finally caught a glimpse of Illyria making her way across the campsite. She hadn’t changed a bit. Her silvery braids hung half undone, giving her a wild look that commanded respect. Illyria walked with the same animal-like grace, her powerful muscles flexing with each step. The familiar frown of concern still haunted her face, but her eyes lit when she saw Sheila. The crowd stepped aside for their leader.

Sheila ignored Illyria’s extended hand and pushed herself up off the ground. Now that she had grown to her full height, Sheila registered that Illyria wasn’t as tall as she remembered. In fact, the woman who once towered over her, stood only an inch or so taller now. Although, her stick-straight posture still gave her a taller appearance than most women. Illyria frowned at Sheila’s refusal for help.

“Welcome back, Sheila,” she said cautiously.

“We should probably talk, Illyria.” She glanced around at the crowd that had gathered. “Somewhere private.” After a slight pause, the Unicorn Queen nodded.

“Agreed.” She turned on her heel and led Sheila to the largest tent in the camp.

~*~

Sheila looked around the inside of the large tent and felt fourteen years old again, freshly arrived in Arren for the first time. Illyria had looked at her with the same air of wariness that she carried now. Sheila’s heart clenched and her head pounded so fiercely, the edges of her sight blurred.

“Could I please have some water?”

“Of course.” Illyria dipped a wooden cup into a bucket and handed it to Sheila, who quickly uncapped her bottle of pills and washed down double the recommended dose. From the darkened entrance, another familiar face entered.

“Those aren’t what you need,” Micula’s serious voice filled the tent.

“How would you know?” Sheila snapped, regretting it instantly. If anyone could understand her pain, Micula would be the one. Thankfully, Micula ignored her insolence for the moment.

“First things first.” Illyria pulled three stools together into a triangle so they could all sit down. “Sheila, please sit and tell me what just happened out there.” Sheila wasn’t sure if Illyria was referring to the vision or Sheila’s refusal to touch her. Either way, she knew she must share her visions with the two women before her.

“It started a couple months ago.” She looked and Illyria and then Micula.

“Your gift,” Micula stated soberly.

“It’s not a gift Micula.” She sighed. She was so tired. At Illyria’s questioning eyes she continued. “I’ve been having visions whenever I touch someone.” Understanding filled the Unicorn Queen’s eyes. “When Darian… kissed me on the cheek, I had another vision. Illyria… the vision was of Laric.”

“What did you see?”

Sheila sensed the undercurrent of Illyria’s fear, despite the queen’s stoic expression. She relayed as much as she knew, which wasn’t much. She didn’t emphasize the depth of the pain she had felt, knowing that it would only make Illyria hurt worse than she was right now.

“What has happened here since I left? What happened to Campora?”

Illyria took her turn to sigh and refilled Sheila’s cup before starting the tale. The sadness in her eyes was accentuated by new lines at their corners. Her worry over Laric was aging her more than any hard days and nights on the plains ever had.

“Several months ago, a mage named Krondor attacked the city with an army of wizards. He’s attacked almost every major city from here to Samarna and defeated them all. We weren’t prepared to fight a magical war. We still aren’t.”

“Laric had left to gather help from our native land of Perian, but he’s been over two weeks late in returning. I was going to set out tonight to search for him, but it appears as if we now have our answer,” Micula’s low voice turned grave.

“Are you sure Sheila?” Illyria asked.

“I wish I wasn’t, but I haven’t been wrong yet.”

“Is that why you came back? Because of your visions of Laric?”

“No, coming here again was pretty much an accident.”

Micula raised an eyebrow but remained silent.

“Well hopefully your Dr. Reit will be able to get you home again soon. But I am very glad to see you again, Sheila. You’ve grown so much since the last I saw you.” Illyria gave her a careful hug, making sure not to make skin contact.

Sheila heard a brief commotion outside the tent and soon after watched as the little girl from earlier charge through the door.

“Mommy, Uncle Darian won’t let me ride Moonbeam. You said I could when I woke up!” She stuck out a petulant lip. Sheila stared in awe at the mini Illyria standing before her.

Illyria pulled the child up onto her lap.

“I meant in the morning. It’s still the middle of the night. Now be polite little one and meet my friend Sheila. Sheila, this is my daughter Serena.”

“Hi Serena.”

The little girl looked at her mother with big round blue eyes.

“Darian’s Sheila?”

“Serena!” Illyria scolded. Sheila blushed and wondered what she meant by that.

“What?” She looked up at her mother, hurt.

“Nothing.” Illyria closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Please go back to your bed roll and try to sleep for a little while longer. In the morning, when the sun is above the trees by the river you can ride Moonbeam.” Illyria quickly added, “But make sure to come get me first. I don’t want you riding without supervision.”

Serena pouted.

“Why can’t I ride Moonbeam now while the _moon_ is out?”

Sheila tried to hold back her smirk. She couldn’t fault Serena’s logic. _Apparently neither can Micula_ , Sheila thought as she caught the twitch in the corner of Micula’s mouth.

“Because Mommy’s tired and needs to rest too. Now, go on back to our tent, and I’ll be there in a little while.”

Serena huffed a big sigh, then agreed reluctantly.

“Okay, Mommy.” She gave her mother a hug, then slipped off her lap and ran out the door of the tent.

“She’s beautiful.” Sheila watched her skip across the campground through the tent’s window.

“She keeps me going,” Illyria said softly.

“A lot has changed in the past 7 years in both our worlds. But you still look as fit as ever,” Sheila said to Illyria. She didn’t look like a woman who had given birth, but there was no doubt regarding Serena’s parentage.

“War will do that to you.” Illyria’s soft eyes turned fierce. Sheila could see thoughts of Laric passing across her face. After a moment, Illyria’s gaze shifted to Sheila. “And what has changed you, Sheila.” Illyria raised her eyebrows. “I can see now that you are not the same girl that left here all those years ago.”

“I knew you would.” Sheila let the moment of honesty continue. “That’s why I didn’t want to come back. We used to be close… but when you get to know me again…” Sheila shook her dark braids, “I’m just not the same cheery optimistic kid that I was.”

“But who you are now,” Micula captured Sheila’s stare, “is not who you are, Sheila McCarthy.”

“How do you know that?” she whispered, wanting Micula to be right.

“ _You_ know that. That’s how I know.”

The sorceress’s voice sounded so sure that Sheila felt for a moment as if she could believe her. “We will begin at sunup tomorrow on those visions of yours. Your tiny capsules will not help those headaches, but learning to control the visions will. Meet me at the river.” Micula swept out of the tent before Sheila realized that she had moved.

“I should probably say hi to the others. They’re probably burning with questions.” Sheila rose tiredly from her stool.

“Sheila, wait.” Illyria grabbed her fabric-covered arm. “There’s something else that you should know.”

“What?”

“Dian. She was killed in the battle at Campora.”

“Oh.” Sheila slowly sat down again. At once she was saddened and relieved, and she felt terrible about feeling relieved. But Dian had always made her time here as difficult as possible. Not only did she constantly battle Sheila for place as the youngest warrior, but also battled her for Darian’s affections. In truth, though, they had reached a mutual truce by the last time she had left, and Sheila never really wanted anything bad to happen to her. Now she was dead. Sheila would never have the chance, as an adult, to understand Dian better, to possibly befriend her.

“She fought fiercely, but Krondor himself brought her down with his vile magicks. I don’t believe she suffered long… in only moments she was nothing but a pile of ashes.”

“That’s terrible.” Sheila’s eyebrows came together in horror.

“Yes it is. And that’s why we must find a way to defeat Krondor, so that more people don’t end up like Dian. While you’re here Sheila, will you help us?” Illyria looked at her with a pleading that made Sheila uneasy. She had never seen the Unicorn Queen look so helpless.

“Me? I mean, of course I’ll help, but I really don’t see how I can.”

“With magic, of course.”

Sheila sighed. Illyria and her warriors always had believed that Sheila was much more magical than she really was. She had only brought trinkets to this world that they didn’t understand, like the lighter and the tape recorder. She tried to let her down easy. “Illyria, I really don’t have much magical ability.”

“Of course you do. Or have you forgotten that protection spell that sent you all the way back to your World of Science?”

“Yes, but that was one little spell. It sounds like you’re going to need a lot more help than that if you’re going to beat this Krondor guy.”

“It’s one more spell than I’m capable of, Sheila,” she spoke gravely. “My skills will help little in this war. Which is frustrating beyond the telling of it.” She slammed a fist onto a wooden table. “But you can learn magic. You already know the protection spell. Once you tap into magic, all you need is a teacher… like Micula.”

Sheila groaned inwardly; she had always hated her sessions with Micula.

~*~

Sheila had intended on catching up with her old warrior friends, but when she left Illyria’s tent they had all gone back to sleep. The only people awake were a select group of Laric’s guards who stood watch. Even though she had been afraid of seeing Pelu, Nanine, and the others, she now stood in the center of the camp, disappointed. In a rush, the feel of Darian’s embrace came back to her. The feel of being in his arms again, for as brief as it was, made her warm all over.

The sound of rushing water pulled her. She found herself walking toward it into the night. Inhaling deeply, she savored the smell of truly fresh air. That was something she could never find quite the same on her Earth. Something industrial always tainted the air. But tonight all she could smell were the trees, the air, the dirt, the water. Finally, she came upon the rushing stream and sat down on a rock in the moonlight, slipping her sore feet into the cool water. It felt like heaven.

Across the stream she saw them again for the first time in seven years. Right away, she recognized Wildwing, Darian’s unicorn, and Quiet Storm, the beautiful beast that Illyria rode. Sheila scanned the herd of unicorns for Morning Star but couldn’t find her. Her chest felt hollow as she wondered if Morning Star would even recognize her.

When the unicorns had renewed their power in Ryudain Micula had warned them that they may not return to the warriors as the same unicorns they had known. Their wild magic restored, they might become wild again themselves.

“Some of them still let us ride them,” Darian’s voice came from behind her. She tried not to let him see how much his sudden presence had rattled her while her heart pounded in her chest. “We were on our way home from renewing their magic in Ryudain again when Campora was attacked.”

Sheila suddenly made the connection. It had been…

“Seven years,” she whispered. Every seven years, the unicorns’ power had to be replenished.

“That’s right.”

“Do you still ride Wildwing?” she asked, her voice soft, as if she didn’t want to disturb the grazing herd.

“Sometimes.” Darian sat down on the rock next to her. “If we have a long, hard ride and things are desperate he will let me ride him. But he was always wild. Now, even more so.”

“I can’t find Morning Star.” She turned her head away from him, her eyes welling up.

“She’s somewhere up in the mountains north of Ryudain. After you left she wouldn’t let anyone ride her and she moved with the wilder herd. I did see her briefly on this most recent trip to Ryudain. She looked healthy.”

Sheila nodded, her mouth tight, trying to stop herself from crying. But she couldn’t hold back the sob that bubbled up. The more she tried to hold back, the more upset she became. Darian slipped an arm around her wracking shoulders.

“Shhh,” he whispered into her hair. “It’s ok.”

“No, it’s really not.” Tears streamed down her cheeks. She pulled away from him and walked deeper into the stream, not caring as her pants and the bottom of her coat became soaked. Darian slipped soundlessly into the water, following her.

“Tell me.”

“Tell you what, Darian?”

“What’s happened to you?” His deep voice held a gentleness that twisted her soul. “You’re so different. But you’re not.” He brought both hands up to her face and wiped away her running eye makeup with his coarse thumbs.

She stared at him, speechless. He had touched her, and she didn’t have a vision.

“I don’t understand. I’ve been having visions every single time I touch someone…” She looked at him, confused. His hands trailed down her face and her neck to her shoulders.

“Micula.”

“What?”

“I asked her what happened earlier, and she explained your gift.” Sheila shook her head again at the word _gift_ , but before she could argue with him he continued, “So I asked her to do a spell on me.” He looked a little embarrassed.

“A spell?” She felt more confused than ever.

“So that I could touch you again,” his voice broke.

“You want to touch me?” Her voice trembled with emotion. She hadn’t dared hope that he would still yearn for her after all these years like she had yearned for him. His hands moved over her shoulders and back up her neck, cupping her cheeks as he answered her question with a kiss. This kiss dwarfed the vague memory she often recalled from their adolescence. At first tentative, their lips moved together in a rapidly heating passion, their tongues mingling, desperate to join with one another. Sheila’s arms wrapped around Darian and her hands moved over his muscular back while his hands tangled in her hair. The energy of their kiss spread down her arms and her legs until she felt so dizzy that she had to pull away. They both breathed hard and stared at each other.

“You’re very good at that.” Sheila’s chest heaved in the night. “Been practicing?” She smirked.

His brown eyes stared at her in the moonlight, serious.

“Have you?”

Sheila paled.

“I thought you were dead Darian.”

“I was right here… waiting.” He turned, shoulders stiff, and waded out of the water. Sheila followed him, her heart pounding so hard that she couldn’t hear.

“I wanted to come back, but I couldn’t.”

“Right.” Darian continued walking away from her.

Sheila, now fuming with indignance, stalked past him, turned around and stopped him in his tracks.

“No way do you get to be mad about this! You have no idea what it’s been like for me these past few years – dealing with the death of my parents – trying to make it through life without any ties to anyone – no family – no friends – no one to love me back while all I did was think about you – trying to get close to people, hoping that with one of them I would feel half as much about them as I felt with you, and none of them measuring up – and then to have my only solace of numbing physical contact with people taken away by these damn visions. You have no fucking idea Darian! You’ve never hated yourself so much that you wanted to go to sleep and never wake up.” Tears streamed down her cheeks. “To feel so alone, with everyone you ever cared about presumed dead – to have nothing to live for.”

Darian’s face blanched. He made a broken noise and gathered her in his arms. She tried to pull away but stopped struggling when he held tight. She collapsed into his arms, sobbing every sadness out onto his chest. Darian coaxed her to let it out with his hand rubbing her back in comforting circles.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured.

Sheila lifted her head to look at him, her eyes red from crying.

“Every time I looked at the moon, I mourned you Darian, thinking that you and the others were long dead.” Her jaw trembled. He planted a light kiss on her forehead.

“Why did you think we were dead?”

“Because of the time difference – with months here are only hours back home.”

“Oh, Goddess.” His eyes squeezed shut for a moment. Then he opened them and met Sheila’s gaze. “I forgot. I can’t imagine how horrible that must have felt.”

“Like I’d never be whole again,” she admitted softly.

“But, wait, how did you manage to come back then?” Darian’s brows drew together.

“Dr. Reit made an improvement to the device…the, uh, spell… so that he could pick the right time.”

“Why didn’t you pick an earlier time, then? Why didn’t you come back right after you left?”

“Well, it wasn’t my choice.” Sheila tried to mask her tension regarding Dr. Reit but could see the curiosity in Darian’s eyes. “I would guess that Dr. Reit picked this time so that the same amount of time had passed for all of us. Otherwise, I’d be 21, and you’d still be 16.”

“That doesn’t sound too terrible.” He waggled his eyebrows, and Sheila shoved him playfully.

“Perv!” The word had come out in English. Apparently, the local language didn’t have a translation.

“Perv?”

“Never mind.” She smirked.

“Well, I’m just glad that you’re back, no matter how you got here.” He tucked one of her braids behind her ear and kissed her gently on the mouth.


	3. Rally Cry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sheila's first full day back with the warriors. It's time for a lesson with Micula, and time to reconnect with some old friends.

Groaning, Sheila sat up and squinted in the morning light. Every muscle in her body protested as she stood and rolled up the bedroll Illyria had loaned her. She definitely wasn’t used to sleeping on the ground.

It had been warm enough for her to sleep out in the open - instead of bothering someone to join their tent - but she now regretted that decision as she shook an alarmingly large bug off her sleeve with a shudder. Sheila made a mental note to find someone to share a tent with tonight, if anyone was willing. It had been a long time since she had spent time among these warriors, and although they would be polite toward her, trust had to be rebuilt.

As Sheila watched Lianne cooking breakfast at the nearby fire, she wondered about Kara, her old tent mate and mentor. Kara had taught Sheila so many things in her time here – how to shoot a bow, how to get along with the band of women warriors, and how to persevere in the face of adversity. Kara had searched for years for her younger sister, Lianne, who had been in the clutches of the evil Dynasian.

When Sheila had last returned to Campora, Lianne and Kara had finally found one another and been living a quiet life in a little home with a garden. Kara had still trained with the warriors, teaching Laric’s guards how to master the bow and arrow, but she had settled into a softer life. Sheila wondered how Kara and Lianne were adjusting to life on the road once again. 

“Hi Lianne.” Sheila approached her, careful not to startle the delicate woman. Although Lianne had tried to fit in with the warriors after her rescue, she hadn’t had their tough exterior.

“Hi Sheila.” Lianne looked Sheila directly in the eyes, with a bold, unwavering stare. “Here, have some breakfast.” The small woman held out a plate of food. She wasn’t hostile, but she wasn’t friendly either. Sheila accepted the food, a bit unnerved at the difference in this once-shy girl.

“Thanks.” She took a bite and swallowed the welcome food. “I haven’t seen Kara yet. Is she around?”

“No.” Lianne continued preparing meals for the other women, a crease deepening in her brow and her hand tightening around a long wooden stirring spoon. “She left with some of Laric’s men last week. They were going to scout ahead and see what they could learn about Laric’s whereabouts.”

“Do you think they’ll be back soon?”

“They were supposed to return several days ago. Hopefully they’ll show up soon.” Lianne stirred the food more rapidly over the fire, obviously trying to hide her concern.

Sheila tried changing the subject, hoping to lighten the mood.

“So, did you ever end up marrying Handsome Ansom?” Sheila grinned. She and Lianne had taken to giving Ansom that nickname after deciding that he was way too well-groomed to be modest. Somehow Lianne had seen beyond that and grew a fondness for him.

“I did,” she replied softly. Sheila watched the young women’s eyes grow hard, a sight that startled her. “Krondor’s army killed him when they attacked Campora.” She touched her fingertips to her head and then her heart in reflex.

“Oh Lianne, I’m so sorry.” Sheila’s heart ached.

“Krondor will be the one who is sorry, when we finally find his stronghold.” Lianne’s eyes burned with hatred. She excused herself, saying that she had to get some water from the river.

Pelu, having watched the conversation from afar, approached Sheila.

“She was pregnant with her first child when Krondor attacked Campora. Ansom wasn’t the only one she lost that night.”

“Oh my God.” Sheila set the plate of food down, no longer hungry. She gave Pelu a quick, careful hug. “How are _you_ doing, Pelu?” She was a little afraid to hear the healer’s answer.

“Oh, I’m okay.” She gave Sheila a small smile, as gentle as always. “It’s been hard, trying to take care of the wounded when they have Krondor’s magic taint. The traditional medicines aren’t of much use. But, I have had some small success learning some healing magicks from Jahnus. He’s from Laric’s homeland.” A small telling blush filled her cheeks as soon as she said Jahnus’s name.

“I haven’t met Jahnus yet.” Sheila hid a smile.

“Well, when you have a moment, stop by the healing tent. It’s that one over there with the patchwork door.” She pointed at one of the largest tents. “But, right now, I believe Micula is waiting for you down by the river.” Pelu raised a delicate eyebrow.

Sheila cursed at having forgotten, and said a hasty goodbye to Pelu, jogging quickly to her obligation.

~*~

Not particularly surprised, Sheila approached the river and watched Micula as she stood on the water. Not _in_ the water, but _on_ the water. She could already tell that is was going to be a long morning.

“Thank you,” Sheila said sincerely, trying a tactic of pacifism.

“Whatever for?” The woman walked toward her until she reached the sandy shore.

“For doing that spell for Darian.” Sheila looked down, suddenly unable to meet Micula’s intense gaze.

“Yes, well, Darian rarely asks anyone for help. I figured it was good practice for him.” A hint of amusement tinged her voice. The amusement, however, vanished as she shifted quickly to teacher mode. “Gaining control over your visions is actually rather easy. If you give it serious effort, you will probably be in control of them by the end of the week.”

“Really?” Sheila didn’t dare hope that it could be that quick.

“Don’t be so surprised, Sheila. You built a strong foundation for magic during our previous lessons together.”

“But that was over seven years ago.”

“That is true, but I can tell that you’ve been practicing.”

“I haven’t,” Sheila argued.

“You may not have realized it at the time. I can see quite well that your connection with the moon is strong. Every time you reached out to try and sense Campora from your home world, you were practicing the grounding exercises.”

“Oh.” She had totally overlooked those moments. “I guess I thought that since I never connected with anyone here except for the night I returned from Ryudain, that it wasn’t working.”

“It was. I felt it each and every time.”

Sheila’s breath caught.

“You did?”

“Yes. Your magic is strong. Even from the Land of Science.”

“But why didn’t you respond?” Sheila tried to hold back her ire. All these years, and she’d been left to flounder alone, thinking that she was completely cut off from everyone here.

“It was not the will of the magicks.”

 _What the heck does that mean?_ Sheila’s fists clenched by her sides. _Damn it._ She huffed at Micula’s now-raised eyebrow. Fighting with Micula wasn’t going to help anything. She needed this woman’s help, and burning bridges with this powerful sorceress would be beyond reckless. Sheila inhaled deeply. As she slowly let out her breath, she let her tension flow out along with it. She needed to keep calm and focused if she was going to learn anything.

Micula remained still and silent until Sheila had composed herself.

“Excellent. Let’s get started.” Micula settled herself on one of the large flat rocks. Sheila followed her example, crossing her legs and taking slow, even breaths. “Feel the rock beneath you, the air surrounding you, hear the water rushing by, feel its power coursing through you, rushing under your skin,” Micula’s voice lulled Sheila into a deep sense of calm. “Feel the sun shining down, infusing you with its energy.”

A focused feeling of warmth spread from Sheila’s stomach, radiating outward to her arms, legs, and head. She vaguely remembered this feeling from the last time she cast the protection spell. Once, she had found this intense connection with the elements frightening, but now, a strong sense of rightness dwarfed her fear.

“Yes, that’s right.” Micula sounded pleased, if that was possible. “Now, I would like you to concentrate on the air surrounding your skin. Hold up your hand and concentrate on the air in front of your palm.”

Sheila held her hand out, palm up, opened her eyes and focused on the air surrounding her hand. She could almost imagine that she could feel the molecules colliding around it.

“Focus on thickening the air above your palm, Sheila. Give me a nod when you think you have it.”

It took her only a few minutes of focusing her energy to feel like she had done it. She gave a small nod to Micula, who approached slowly and dropped a handful of sand into Sheila’s upturned palm. But the sand didn’t touch her skin. It hovered about a half inch above her palm.

Sheila’s eyes widened.

“Holy shit,” she whispered. The grains quivered for a moment as Sheila’s surprise disrupted her concentration, but she quickly recovered, reinforcing the buffer of air underneath the sand.

Micula ignored her swearing and nodded with approval.

“You’ve gained much focus, Sheila McCarthy. I have a feeling that our progress will move much quicker this time.”

Sweat started to bead on Sheila’s forehead and her arm started to shake with fatigue.

“I don’t think I can keep this up.”

“That’s to be expected. You’ll need to practice to use your energy efficiently. Go ahead and let the air move back to its natural state.”

With relief, Sheila released the small measure of control she had of the air above her palm. The sand fell and trickled through her fingers.

“Wow, I didn’t know I could do that.”

“You can do a lot more than that. With a little training, that is,” Micula clarified.

“How is this going to help me control my visions?”

“We will practice expanding your control to larger areas of your body, until you can create a field that encompasses all of yourself. Then we will work on filtering what gets through and what doesn’t.”

“Is that what you did for Darian last night?” Sheila couldn’t even imagine the depth of Micula’s power if she were able to control a field around Darian from afar for several hours.

“Yes. And you will eventually be able to do that as well.”

Sheila’s eyes widened.

“Don’t look so surprised. A month from now, you’ll be shocked that you ever thought it would be difficult. You’ll be able to keep a constant field around you without feeling remotely winded.”

~*~

After her lesson with Micula, Sheila checked in with Illyria. She had no news of Laric or the search party who had set out to find him. Illyria was clearly getting restless just waiting here for the others to return with information. Sheila could see the frustration in her eyes and the tension in her body. The Unicorn Queen could not be kept at bay for long. She told Sheila that if Kara didn’t return by sundown that she would call a gathering to determine the next course of action. Somehow, Sheila knew that their next move would not involve playing it safe. More likely, it would involve riding hard and battling evil.

To kill some time, Sheila headed to the healing tents to see if she could catch a glimpse of the man who had evidently captured Pelu’s heart. As she pulled the tent door flap aside and stepped into the din, she was momentarily blinded while her eyes took time to adjust. When she could finally see, Sheila found herself face to face with a man she had never met before.

“You must be Sheila.” The barrel-chested older man sounded neither happy nor impressed to meet her. He stepped back, walking an arm full of supplies over to a weathered saddle. Sheila bristled at his lackluster greeting.

“And you are?”

His arrogant blue eyes met hers for a long moment. No, not met, peered through her. He looked as if he were secretly sensing something that was beyond Sheila’s comprehension. Just as she decided that he wasn’t going to answer her, he let go of the supplies and stood to his full height, towering over her.

“They come.”

“What? Who comes?”

Without answering her, the old man swept out of the tent, leaving her confused and mildly irritated.

“Don’t mind him.” A younger man approached Sheila with a smile, Pelu trailing behind him. “Father was born enigmatic.”

“Sheila, I’d like you to meet Jahnus. Jahnus, this is the infamous Sheila McCarthy.”

“Hi,” Sheila said distractedly. She was still frowning after the encounter with the older man.

“Don’t worry about him.” Jahnus waved off his father’s antics. “He sees things no one but Micula can understand. But he’s harmless.”

“Harmless to Illyria’s people, maybe. But not harmless to our enemies.” Pelu sounded proud.

Sheila finally turned to focus on Jahnus. She could see why Pelu liked him. He stood a few inches taller than Pelu, his light brown curls falling in his eyes, adding a sense of delicateness to his strong features. But it was his eyes that captured her attention. They were the same deep blue as his father’s, only they sparkled with good humor. A lot could be determined about a person by looking into their eyes. When Sheila looked into Jahnus’s blue pools, she saw a youthful, sincere, kind man. No wonder Pelu like him.

“Hi.” She met his eyes and smiled this time.

“Pleasure to finally meet you Sheila.” He smiled back. “Pelu has told me many interesting stories about you.” The corner of Jahnus’s mouth curled up as if some of the stories couldn’t possibly be true now that he had seen Sheila in the flesh. Apparently some of his father’s arrogance had rubbed off. Sheila was beginning to revise her initial opinion of him.

“Well, I’m sure that Pelu has told nothing but accurate tales.” Her voice came out tight and challenging. His arrogance slipped away immediately as he seemed to realize that he had offended Sheila.

“You are right,” he said, bowing his head. “Pelu does not allow her generous nature to color her memory. She speaks with the most honest tongue of anyone in the camp.” Now he sounded so ashamed that Sheila couldn’t stay mad at him. He turned to Pelu and took her hand in his. “Please forgive me, Pelu.” That clinched it. Sheila broke into a grin before she could help herself.

“I think you better forgive him or I’m liable to feel sorry for him.”

Pelu touched his face gently and smiled.

“Well, I suppose I could accept his apology.” Her smile grew coy. “But then I wouldn’t have anything to hold over his head later.” She slipped her hand from his grasp and headed toward one of the few patients in the far corner of the tent.

Jahnus watched her go, not bothering to hide the big goofy smile that added a new quality to his handsome face. He was in love, and not trying to hide it.

Sheila sighed quietly to herself. She wondered if Darian would ever look at her that way. Then she wondered if that was something she even wanted. Part of her definitely did, so much that it ached. However, the self-preserving side of her planted seeds of doubt… telling her that she didn’t deserve such unwavering affection, and if for some unknown reason Darian did look at her that way, then he was deluding himself and would be sorely disappointed once he got to know her again. She knew she wasn’t worthy of such love. But, damn if she didn’t want it anyway.

~*~

Sheila meandered around the camp, supposedly on a mission from Pelu to locate spare bits of cloth for bandages, but she found herself looking for Darian. They had said their goodnights after a last breathless goodnight kiss, even though she really wanted to sit and talk to him until the sun rose. But he had said that as one of Laric’s warriors, he had to be up at dawn to guard the perimeter and that it wouldn’t be good if he fell asleep because he hadn’t slept at all. However, now the sun hung high in the sky, beating down its relentless heat, and Sheila hoped that she would spot him during her amble around the camp.

Her quest for bandages was quickly interrupted by Myno, who greeted her with a fierce hug and informed her that she had better join the women in the practice ring. Certain that she should not defy Myno’s wishes, Sheila slipped on the lightweight riding gloves she always kept in her coat pockets these days, and then followed the statuesque woman to a large dirt area.

Zanara-Ki and Jeno circled each other, both crouching in a stance that gave them the best balance and options for defending and attacking. Sheila noted that it wasn’t dissimilar to taekwondo. Jeno, no longer the boy she remembered, but now a lithe young man, prepared to pounce. Sheila watched as he shifted his weight and launched into a flying kick. Heh, she snickered as Zanara-Ki knocked him onto his back. Flying kicks looked great, but they were never as effective as a good solid ground kick. Plus, unless you were _very_ good, you usually ended up on the ground and at your opponent’s mercy.

“Something funny?” Jeno raised his head off the dirt and glared at Sheila. He didn’t seem all that angry, just embarrassed. Sheila squelched her smile and entered the ring, offering her gloved hand to help him up. He reluctantly accepted and allowed her to pull him to his feet.

“If you really want to do the flying kick, try this.” Sheila demonstrated a move that she had perfected before she had earned her red belt. She showed him how to mask the shifting of weight, and how to maintain control while in the air. Zanara-Ki was able to deflect her kick, but Sheila was able to retain her balance and land on her feet. Nanine and Lianne shouted encouragement for her as she continued circling Zanara-Ki.

Years ago, Sheila would never have dreamed of beating the small quick woman at hand-to-hand combat, but now Sheila met her every spin, every blow, every leap. The others dropped to silence as Sheila and Zanara-Ki whirled around each other in a fighting dance that lasted until Zanara-Ki held her hands up to stop the fight.

“You have become a master.” Zanara-Ki bowed toward Sheila, who returned the honor as she tried to catch her breath.

“Someone’s been practicing.” Even Myno sounded impressed.

Not feeling comfortable being called a master, Sheila stepped out of the ring and shrugged as she pulled off her sweaty gloves.

“Yeah, well, if you put a sword in my hand, you’ll see how much practice I really need. I haven’t picked one up in years.”

Jeno grinned.

“Thank the Goddess Moon for small favors.”

“Enough out of you, pup.” Myno cuffed his ear. “Go make yourself useful and get Sheila a sword.”

Sheila suddenly regretted mentioning swords. If history were any indication, Myno would force Sheila to practice until her arm was ready to fall off. She looked at Nanine, the beautiful ebony princess, and found good humor in the woman’s eyes.

“Do you think she’s going to let me have lunch before I master the sword again.”

“You’ll be lucky if you get dinner, or breakfast for that matter.” She laughed.

“I guess it’s nice to know that some things never change.” Sheila smiled despite herself. Her cheeks ached, and she realized that she was out of practice on more than just swordplay.

~*~

Right arm hanging limply at her side, Sheila raised her spoon to her lips with her left hand. Myno looked like an angel of mercy compared to Illyria, who had joined them in the practice ring for the rest of the afternoon. Of all her warriors, Illyria’s mastery of swordplay stood out as remarkable. Sheila reconsidered the term sword _play_ as she tried to raise her arm and winced. Not only were her muscles exhausted, but Illyria had brought the flat edge down hard on her forearm when Sheila had left herself open to attack.

She knew that Illyria was just trying to make her strong again, so that she wouldn’t get herself killed, but irritation still burned in her gut each time her arm throbbed. When Darian had approached to watch from the sidelines, Illyria knocked Sheila’s sword out of her hands for the tenth time and gave her a bruise to remember.

It was Sheila’s pride that bruised the most, though, when Illyria had said calmly, _“_ _You cannot afford to be distracted, Sheila.”_ It was true. She had allowed Darian’s sudden presence to unbalance her more than she wanted to admit. Maybe if she hadn’t been noticing how well-defined his arm muscles had become, she wouldn’t have allowed Illyria to capture her sword and knock her flat on her back.

“Hey.” As if conjured by her thoughts, Darian settled down beside her next to the fire pit.

“Hey.” She had a hard time keeping her embarrassment out of her voice.

“Your arm ok?”

“I’ll live.”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Sheila looked at him, confused.

“You were doing ok in the ring until I showed up.”

“No I wasn’t,” she argued, willing herself not to blush.

“Well, Illyria hadn’t knocked you down until I showed up.”

Sheila’s eyes narrowed at his amused tone.

“You don’t sound very sorry.”

Darian’s eyes danced as he fought a grin. She would have punched him if both her arms had been working, but hunger overrode her desire for retaliation, and she decided that ignoring him would be just as effective. Her mystery soup suddenly became the sole object of her attention.

“You’ll catch up in no time, Sheila.” He sounded sincere, but she still wouldn’t look up at him. After a long moment, he broke the silence. “I heard that you bested Zanara-Ki today.” Sheila glanced up to find Darian looking at her, impressed.

“I didn’t best her. I just held my own,” Sheila said curtly. The last thing she wanted or needed was Darian putting her on a metaphorical pedestal.

He nodded.

“Still impressive. Even Illyria hasn’t been granted the title of _Master_ by Zanara-Ki.”

That surprised Sheila. She had seen Illyria match the small woman many times during their practices. Darian must have read the look on her face.

“When we practice with Zanara-Ki, she rarely demonstrates her full power and skills.”

“She holds back?”

“It’s the same as Illyria teaching the sword. She could pummel you into the ground, but what would you learn?”

Sheila nodded with understanding, recalling that lesson she had learned long ago. And suddenly she realized the enormity of what had happened this afternoon. It was very rare indeed for Zanara-Ki to find an equal. Sheila wondered if that would bring her and the woman closer together or divide them into cautious allies.

Deep down though, Sheila knew it was just a matter of time before Zanara-Ki revised her opinion. There was a reason that Sheila had earned her red belt, but not yet her black.

Most people didn’t realize that the belt colors held a significance beyond a mere representation of training achievement. White, for example, indicated the purity and innocence of a first-time student. Red, however… signified danger, not only cautioning the student to exercise control, but also warning the opponent to stay away. Sheila was a master in technical skill, but not in judgement. Black signified wisdom, control, and maturity… traits that Sheila had yet to master, as she’d been reminded many times by Master Kim. Black also signified the wearer’s imperviousness to darkness and fear…

Sheila took a deep breath, trying to calm her stomach, which threatened to send her soup back up.

“Micula told me that your first lesson with her went well,” Darian said lightly, and Sheila was grateful for the distraction from her dark thoughts. Micula’s lesson seemed like days ago, not just this morning.

“So far so good.” She knew she should practice again before their next session. “You want to help me practice?”

He looked surprised, but willing.

“Sure. What do you want me to do?”

She set her spoon down and held up her left hand.

“When I give you the sign, sprinkle a handful of dirt on my hand.”

“Okay.” He sat still, watching as Sheila closed her eyes and began to ground herself.

The grounding came quicker this time. It took less than a minute for her to feel the white-hot energy of the moon and the other elements flowing through her. She focused on her palm, opening her eyes and willing the air surrounding her hand to thicken.

“Now,” she whispered.

Darian released some dirt and a few pebbles over her upturned palm and watched with awe on his face as it all hovered an inch above her skin.

Sheila concentrated on the energy and imagined it flowing in lazy circles over her fingers. The particles moved with the energy, slowly spinning clockwise.

“Cool.” She smiled.

“It’s cold?”

Her smile grew. She had missed explaining slang words to Darian.

“In my world, you say something is ‘cool’ if you really like something, you think it’s interesting and you bet that a lot of people would appreciate it.” She took a deep breath and managed to change the direction of the spin to counterclockwise.

“Then I think it is very cool.” He sounded so earnest that Sheila smiled again.

“Micula says that I’ll be able to learn how to keep a field around me at all times and let through everything but the visions.”

“Like what she did for me last night.”

“Yeah.” Sheila fought to keep her focus as memories of his kiss flooded her mind. The swirling stopped, but she still held the dirt and pebbles on a cushion of air.

“Try to hold up the pebbles while letting the dirt through,” he encouraged her.

“I’m not sure how.”

“Don’t think about it. Try just feeling for it.”

Sheila looked at Darian, surprised. As far as she knew, he didn’t have an ounce of magical ability. He looked a little sheepish.

“It’s something I heard Micula say to Serena once.”

Interesting. Serena had magical abilities. But that would make sense, Sheila thought. Her father came from a land of magic, and her mother was the Unicorn Queen.

Sheila tried _feeling for it_. She used the air to sense each pebble individually, feeling their density, how it differed from the small granules of dirt. Slowly, she allowed the air to loosen enough to let the dirt fall, but keep the pebbles floating.

“You did it!” Darian cheered.

Her arm began to shake, so Sheila released the energy and let her arm down, feeling accomplished. She wanted to kiss him in celebration but stopped herself.

“The spell Micula did last night to help you…” She left the question hanging in the air, unspoken. It had a thickening quality all its own. Darian’s smile slowly left his face.

“It was only for one night. Until you perfect your own protection field, we can’t touch each other.”

Sheila ached to reach out for him and smooth the unhappy lines from his face. Excitement burned in her stomach, just looking at him, watching his chestnut hair falling into his eyes. The crescent shaped scar on his arm stood out in the failing light. Sheila picked up her spoon again to keep her fingers from reaching to touch him.

“Micula sure knows how to motivate a girl.”

Darian’s smile stood out as much as his scar, a flash of white in the dimness. His witty retort died on his lips as he watched Lianne slip up to them, her face a wall of seriousness.

“Illyria is ready for us to join her.”

“Still no word from Kara?” Sheila regretted asking as fear flickered in Lianne’s eyes. The slight woman shook her head, as if superstitious that saying it aloud would somehow make it more real.

The threesome made their way silently to the largest tattered tent and slipped inside, joining the others who sat around waiting for Illyria to speak.

Tonight the Unicorn Queen looked just like Sheila remembered her: beautiful, dangerous, and powerful. Faded leather armor, adorned with crescent moons hammered from various metals circled her arms, legs, and torso. Someone had helped braid her waist-length white-blonde hair into hundreds of braids, like Sheila’s, and wrapped them into an intricate weave atop her head. Her sword hung at her side, hilt gleaming, freshly polished. But most regal were Illyria’s sharp, commanding, and watchful eyes. In her lifetime, Sheila had seen many women dress up to play the role of leader, but none held the quality that Illyria possessed. She could have ridden completely nude atop her unicorn and would still have held the commanding presence that had earned her the title of Queen.

Illyria stood silent, immobile, patiently waiting for everyone to arrive and for the quiet conversations to cease. In moments, the group fell silent, all eyes on the leader before them. Illyria spoke to her riders in a clear, low voice.

“As many of you already know, a week ago I sent Kara and several of Laric’s men ahead to try and gain information about Laric’s location. They are over two days late in returning. After speaking with Micula and Tarrin regarding this, I believe that they have been captured as well.”

Micula and Jahnus’s father suddenly appeared from the shadows, standing off to the side, next to Illyria. Micula stepped forward, addressing the group.

“Tarrin sent his familiars out yesterday in search of our people. They returned today and shared with him images of Kara struggling against Krondor’s evil magic.”

Illyria and Sheila both noticed Lianne pale and struggle to fight back tears. Sheila wanted to put her arm around Lianne, but fear of a vision stopped her. The Unicorn Queen, however, was not as hampered. She gave Lianne’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze and stood tall, addressing the band of warriors again.

“We cannot help Kara by sitting here, waiting in fear. For too long have we rested here. It is time for us to ride again. It is time for us to find some way to free our King and Kara and all of the others who suffer as Krondor’s prisoners.” Her eyes turned steely and fierce, her voice rising in the close quarters until it was the only thing that filled Sheila’s senses. “We must take back our lands and destroy this coward who hides behind his dark magicks. For Dian. For Ansom. For everyone who has given their lives to fight this madman.” The group broke the silence with their cries of approval. Illyria’s voice rose to a fevered pitch. “By the Goddess Moon, he will pay for the evil he has done.” In a scrape of steel, she pulled her sword from its sheath and issued her warrior’s cry, sending shivers down Sheila’s spine. Everyone in the tent, spurred by the passion of Illyria’s speech cried out in echo to their Queen’s proclamation.

As the cries died down, Illyria looked at each one of her warriors individually. When her gaze rested on Sheila, Sheila gave a slight nod, letting her know that she would fight. Only two days back in this land and Sheila didn’t hesitate to put her life on the line for Illyria. She felt shocked at the depth of loyalty she felt toward these women, as if it were lying dormant for the past seven years, waiting to hear Illyria’s rally cry once again.

She looked around, realizing that these women and Darian were her family. A thrill of fear went through her. Could she handle losing any of them in the battles ahead? At the thought, she broke into a cold sweat. She had lost too much in recent years.

As Illyria began talking of their plans to ride out at sunrise, Sheila watched Darian, fierce and ready to fight. If he didn’t make it through this war, she couldn’t conceive of how she would continue on. When he had held her under the moonlight last night, something had reignited inside her, but it had left her vulnerable as well.

Sheila remembered the moment when she realized that, due to the time difference, Darian was long dead. It had happened during her parents’ funeral. As she had stood there, hazily wondering who she had left as family, her mind shifted to Illyria, Darian, and these women. Then the realization of the difference in their timelines struck her with enough force to drop her to her knees at the cemetery. Everyone had thought the cause was grief from losing her parents, but truly it had been the knowledge that she would never see Illyria or Darian ever again that had turned her body numb with shock.

Dizzy with the memory, Sheila slipped out of the tent and gulped in the cool night air. Her heart pounded in her ears. She was getting too close to everyone too quickly. Pushing down the panic, Sheila focused on pulling deep breaths in and slowly letting them out. She leaned her forehead on the cool bark of a nearby tree, and just breathed for several long minutes until the vice gripping her chest finally eased.

She had survived many challenges in her life, she could certainly handle this. The handicap of not being able to touch Darian was actually a blessing in disguise. It would be easier this way. At least she couldn’t get too close to him at the moment. But still, she knew she’d do whatever it took to keep them all safe.

Sheila looked up at the rising moon and sent up a prayer… _Please, if you’re listening… please help me protect them._ As she felt a tingle run from the crown of her head, down her arms, and into her fingertips, the last bit of her tension faded into the night. In its place, a thrum of magic flowed over her skin.

If the power of the moon was on their side, they might just stand a chance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As with the previous chapters, this was originally posted elsewhere many moons ago. I've tried to clean it up and make some updates that (I hope) add some extra meat to Sheila's journey. Without a beta, though, so any errors are all mine. Please feel free to send me your comments, both positive and constructive. I love the interaction. :) After this... two more full chapters before you get some new content!


	4. Mourning Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The warriors break camp and head out to save their captured friends. Sheila adjusts to life on the road.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is largely unchanged from the original, aside from correcting a few typos and minor word changes. There may be more typos in there still! That's all on me. Happy reading! ;-)

Along with many of Laric’s men, Sheila bounced lightly on the back of a powerful horse. Illyria had suggested that she try and seek out a unicorn that would let her ride, but Sheila had refused. It felt like it would be a betrayal to Morning Star, her once beloved mount. So, instead, she winced with each jolt from the chestnut stallion. Not only was she out of practice riding, but horses were no match for the graceful unicorns. The unicorn’s hooves barely seemed to skim the ground, their gate long and smooth. No, horses were entirely different creatures.

The warriors riding the unicorns would ride on ahead, scouting for trouble, and wait for the horse-bound riders to catch up. Sheila began to regret her sense of honor as the sun began to beat down on them around midday. Jeno sidled up next to her on his own horse.

“Illyria says that we’ll reach the outer boundaries of Krondor’s territory by this time tomorrow if we push hard.”

“So soon?”

“Well, his territory is vast. We are still several weeks away from his stronghold. The only reason I mention it is that we’ll have to start riding at night once we enter his lands. His people may not love him, but they will report our presence to him out of fear.”

“I don’t think I can handle two more weeks of hard riding,” Sheila complained.

Jeno smirked.

“We’ll all be sore tonight.”

“Why aren’t you riding one of the unicorns?”

“One hasn’t chosen me yet.” If he was upset about that, he didn’t show it. “Illyria says that ever since Ryudain, most of the herd has gone wild and won’t allow themselves to be ridden.”

“How did you end up riding with Illyria?” The last time Sheila had seen Jeno, he had been home safe in his village with his people, the Tomai. His hazel eyes looked sad as he explained.

“Krondor didn’t just destroy Campora.”

“I’m sorry,” Sheila said softly.

“I tried to fight at the beginning. But when Krondor and his wizards rode through on the wind itself and began destroying dozens of huts at a time, I knew there was nothing I could do.” His voice was low and calm, but his hands turned white as they gripped the reins tightly. “So I rode as quickly as I could to Campora, hoping that Darian and the others might be able to help us. But it was too late. Krondor had already destroyed the city.” Jeno seemed to be reliving the experience as he stared off into the distance. “When I saw the gates to the city, I knew that there was no hope for my village.”

“How did you find everyone?”

Jeno’s eyes returned to the present and he smiled.

“Out of anyone, you should know what a good tracker I am.”

“If memory serves, we caught you…” Sheila raised an eyebrow. Jeno shrugged off her tease and grinned wider.

“Yeah, but I got you to let me go, didn’t I?” Not waiting for her response, Jeno spurred his horse into a full gallop, leaving Sheila behind.

Although she was grateful that he had survived the attack, Sheila’s heart ached for his loss. _Maybe loss is just part of growing up_ , she considered. Perhaps it was something everyone had to go through, like a rite of passage. But she didn’t have to like it. And she certainly didn’t like what she was hearing about this Krondor. His evilness and power had taken on mythic proportions, more so than any foe Sheila had fought along with the warriors. If she had any hope of helping, she knew she would have to focus on learning magic from Micula. The thought did not give her comfort. Something about that woman… Sheila couldn’t quite put into words why she had such a problem with her.

She had to admit that part of her wanted to go home, to be safe in her nice boring, if not depressing, apartment. Dr. Reit had taken the choice from her, something that burned a fury inside of her. He couldn’t possibly have known what he was sending her into. For all he knew, she could have fallen into the middle of a war or something. Oh wait, that was exactly what had happened, wasn’t it, she fumed. How did he know that she didn’t have someone back home worrying about her? It’s not like he had been a routine part of her life. She could have had a boyfriend or something. Granted, she didn’t. But she could have. If no one else, Brian, her boss, would notice that she was missing. Of course, then again, Dr. Reit could always set the timer to 30 years after the moment they dumped her in the Unicorn Queen’s world. He could come retrieve her then, bringing her back to the same afternoon she had left. The thought was giving her a headache.

Her horse, Thunder, decided that he didn’t want to follow the group anymore and stopped to nibble on some weeds. Sheila tugged at the rains, trying to discourage the horse, but he was stubborn. Grouchy, uncomfortable, and hungry too, she dismounted the four-footed fiend.

“Fine, enjoy it while you can, beast,” she grumbled and dug into her saddle for her water bag. A long swig chased away some, but not all of her irritation. The root of her anger escaped her, and she avoided analyzing it too deeply. It felt better to be angry and to be afraid. Thinking too much about anything lately seemed to just lead to more pain and heartache.

Perhaps she should try to find a unicorn to ride, she considered. She remembered vividly the freedom and numbing exhilaration she had felt while riding the wind on Morning Star’s back. Sheila remembered with fondness her race with Darian riding Wildwing on the beach near the lands of the Hickorites. However, if Jeno couldn’t find a willing unicorn, there was no guarantee that she would be able to either.

Micula steered her tall black unicorn over to Sheila and her grazing horse. She dismounted in a move so quick and graceful that Sheila wondered if she had used magic. As if reading her mind Micula smiled.

“Once you truly understand magic, how everything is linked together, you realize that every thing, every thought, every movement is magic.”

“How very Zen of you,” Sheila said dryly.

Micula looked unruffled by Sheila’s sarcasm.

“It is time for today’s lesson.”

“Here? Now?”

“Why not?”

“Because we’re riding into battle. Because we’ve been riding for hours and we could all use a break.” Her annoyance flared.

“There will always be battles.” Micula met her eyes calmly. “And there will always be excuses, Sheila.”

For some reason, it made Sheila even more annoyed that Micula was so calm. And that she was right. Yeah, there was that too. But Sheila had no intention of battling with this powerful woman today.

“Fine, what should I do.”

“Remove your gloves.”

Not completely trusting Micula, Sheila slowly peeled them off her hands, watching the woman wearily.

“Hold your palm out like this.” Micula held her hand out like a traffic cop motioning for a car to stop. “Now, concentrate on your hand. Surround it with the field you created yesterday… Good. Now, I am going to focus on sending some psychic energy into your hand. Your job is to stop it.”

Sheila nodded and suddenly felt a sick sense of worry slipping through her fingers in into her chest. It was real worry. Micula’s worry over her captured brother, Laric. Shaken, Sheila fought the overwhelming feeling and struggled to block it out with her field. It wasn’t quite the same sensation as holding back the sand, but it wasn’t totally dissimilar either. After a few wavering moments, she succeeded in blocking out that terrifying feeling.

“Very good, Sheila.” Micula lowered her hand and stopped the onslaught. “Let’s see how you can handle this.” Micula seemed to build an energy around her and suddenly Sheila fell to her knees with an inconsolable sorrow. Reflexively, she threw up the thickening field all around her and surged it, pushing back the feelings with uncontrolled force. Micula’s eyes widened as she staggered back, nearly knocked down by Sheila’s defense mechanism. The power dissipated around them, leaving the two women to stare at each other, Sheila angry, Micula shocked.

“What the hell was that?” Sheila demanded, struggling to her feet, putting a lot more distance between her and the mage.

“I thought you might throw up a larger field out of self-protection,” Micula’s low voice struggled to regain confidence.

“But you underestimated me.” It gave Sheila a large measure of satisfaction to have rendered Micula as close to speechless as possible.

After a long beat, Micula spoke softly.

“No, I overestimated your self-control. We will have to work on that.” Micula’s raven hair swung as she mounted her unicorn and left Sheila in dumbfounded silence.

 _How dare she_ , Sheila fumed. Yanking on the horses reins impatiently only gained her a whicker of disapproval from the immobile horse. It would move when it was good and ready. She slumped into the tall grass, miserable, hating Dr. Reit and Cookie and Micula. How dare they all try and trick her into changing. She felt like everyone viewed her as some sort of warped charity case. _Goddamn meddlers_.

As the departing unicorn’s hoof-beats faded, another’s approached. Sheila watched from the grass as Darian hopped off of Wildwing. She marveled at how his wavy hair caught the midday sun, but shook off the thought quickly. The last thing she wanted right now was to talk to anyone, even Darian. She tried to discourage him by not meeting his questioning gaze.

“What just happened?”

“What do you mean?” Her voice was flat.

“I mean, Micula just rode out of here like she had encountered Krondor himself.”

“It was nothing.” Sheila twisted a long strand of grass between her fingers. Why wouldn’t he just take a hint and leave her alone?

“If that was ‘nothing’, I’d hate to see ‘something’.” He looked down at Sheila, frowning.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m fine. She’s fine. We’re all fine.”

“Come on, Sheila.” He crouched down so that she had to look at him. “What happened?”

He looked so concerned that her reserve melted a little as she met his anxious eyes. She sighed and explained what had transpired between her and Micula. Darian looked as shocked as Micula had.

“If I didn’t know her better, I’d say you scared the hell out of her.”

“Now why doesn’t that make me feel better?” Sheila looked down at her hands, re-sheathed in her gloves. Darian’s hands slipped over hers and gave a reassuring squeeze.

“I can’t say that I’m all that happy about it either. Micula doesn’t rattle easily. If she’s scared of you, then I better be really nice to you.”

Sheila realized that he was teasing her and gave him a playful shove, knocking him onto his side in the tall grass.

“See, you are dangerous.” He pushed himself up easily until his face was level with hers. Their eyes met and Sheila wanted so badly to kiss him in that moment that it almost hurt to restrain herself. He leaned in, his eyes at half-mast, staring at her mouth, and Sheila pulled back.

“We can’t.” Her voice sounded strangled. She could actually see the flash of realization move through him as he remembered that they couldn’t touch. She also caught the flicker of embarrassment behind his eyes.

“I’m sorry.” He stood up quickly, brushing off his sapphire tunic. “You’re right, I’m sorry.”

“It’s ok, Darian.” She didn’t like seeing him upset with himself. Suddenly she had an idea. “Hmm…”

“What?”

She held out her gloved hand and he helped her to her feet.

“I have a new practice idea, if you’re up for it…”

“Okay…”

“I’m going to put up a field around my lips.” She smiled nervously. “And you try to kiss me while I hold back the visions.”

“Are you sure, Sheila?” He looked intently at her.

“Yeah.” She sounded braver than she felt. “Give me a minute.” Sheila grounded herself and focused on her lips and the air surrounding them. It felt a little odd but, she could tell that she had control over the energy. “Okay, now, give it a try.”

Darian hesitated only for a moment, and then leaned in, his eyelashes falling to his cheeks. At first his lips stopped before they met hers, held by the buffer of air about a half inch from her mouth. Sheila focused on letting him through the barrier, while concentrating on keeping the visions at bay. Their lips met in a soft kiss, and to Sheila’s delight she did not have a vision. He kissed her again, and she kissed back, wondering at what she was able to accomplish. They opened their mouths to each other, and as their tongues met, her control failed and a vision ripped through her. Sheila cried out and pulled away from him, falling hard onto the ground.

“Goddess Moon!” Darian dropped to the ground, staring as she curled in pain, seemingly afraid to touch her again. “Are you alright? Sheila? Talk to me.”

~*~

The three Excedrin she normally kept in her pocket for emergencies rolled in her palm as she impatiently waited for Darian to retrieve her water bag. Finally, he returned, and she grabbed it from him, downing the medication quickly in a gulp of warm water. These headaches were getting worse. She could barely think as she watched Darian pace nervously around her. Vaguely she wished he would stop because he was making her dizzier, but it didn’t seem worth the effort it would take to form words. She slumped in the grass, closing her eyes, just wishing that the pain would go away.

She must have fallen asleep, because by the time she awoke, she was surrounded by several concerned faces, and she was no longer in the same grassy clearing. Trees overhead shadowed her from the afternoon sun. She was grateful for the cool relief. Pelu removed a warm damp cloth from her forehead and replaced it with a delightfully cool one. Someone was holding her left gloved hand, but it seemed like too much effort to lift her head. Thankfully, it didn’t hurt anymore, though. She turned it a little and saw that it was Illyria who held her hand.

“Hey,” she said, her mouth dry.

“How are you feeling, my little sorceress?” Illyria used an old expression of endearment, and Sheila felt a little grateful for it, as if things maybe hadn’t changed so much in the last seven years.

“Like I got my foot stuck in a saddle and was dragged from Campora to Ryudain.”

“Drink this, Sheila. It tastes terrible, but it will make you feel better.” Pelu held a wooden cup to Sheila’s lips and tipped it until every drop was gone.

“God. That’s awful.” Sheila grimaced. Jahnus leaned over her and grinned.

“The dengu worm and the swut beetle make it taste bad enough, but it’s the rodent dung that makes it really revolting.”

“Does he think he’s being helpful?” Sheila, now feeling quite nauseous, asked Pelu.

“Jahnus, why don’t you leave Sheila to us girls?” Pelu smiled sweetly enough, but Sheila knew that Jahnus would be in for it later. Evidently he knew too, as he quickly made his exit.

Sheila pushed herself into a sitting position and willed down the liquid that was threatening to rise back up her throat.

“Where’s Darian?” Sheila looked around.

“I sent him on ahead to try and secure a place for us to stay the night,” Illyria said lightly, but Sheila could tell that she was holding back something.

“What aren’t you telling me?” The two women stared at each other. Before one of them relented, Serena ran into shade, providing a timely distraction.

“Mommy, Aunt Micula said that I should tell you about my lesson from today while she gathers the riders.”

Illyria frowned a little in confusion and pulled her daughter into her lap.

“Tell me about your lesson, little one.”

“I was feeling the earth and the moon and the air, but when I tried to feel the water, I saw Daddy.”

Sheila’s heart leapt. She recognized that Serena was talking about her grounding exercises. Sheila recalled many times that she had seen people she cared for, visions of them in the present, even if they were far away, while she grounded herself. That must have been what had happened to Serena.

Illyria, recognizing this as a legitimate vision as well, pushed Serena for more details.

“He was on a boat with big white sales. I saw him, Mommy. The bad man was putting him in a dark place.” Serena’s eyes filled with tears. “He didn’t like it. I could tell.”

Illyria’s face had turned expressionless.

“Could you see where the boat was headed?” Pelu prodded.

“Umm…” the little girl closed her eyes tightly, blocking out everything but the memory. She shook her golden head. “No, the boat wasn’t going anywhere until they put him in the dark room. He can’t get out because of the magic that’s all around him.”

Pelu looked at Illyria and put a comforting hand on her arm.

“He’ll still alive. That is something to be grateful for.”

“If I were trapped alone in the dark on a ship without any way to escape, and no notion of where I was going, I think I would go mad.” Sheila shuddered.

“He’s not alone,” Serena corrected her.

“Who is he with?” Illyria asked before Sheila could.

“He’s with the other man that’s trapped in the room too. But the man is not good like Daddy. His magic is…” Serena seemed to search for the right word. “…wrong.”

“Wrong?” Sheila wasn’t sure what she meant.

“It tastes bad. Not like moon magic at all.”

“Did you recognize the man?” Illyria probed. Again, Serena shook her head. But her face lit up as she remembered something.

“Oh, Daddy recognized him. He called him…” she scrunched her face up trying to remember. “Mardock! Daddy called him Mardock.” Serena beamed, at being able to remember.

Sheila heard the words coming out of Serena’s mouth but didn’t quite comprehend them immediately. As she watched a wave of emotions wash over Illyria’s face, moving from surprise, to anger, and finally to contempt, Sheila felt herself grow cold with understanding. Of course Mardock hadn’t died at Ryudain. Somehow she doubted that he would ever die. The wizard seemed to have an uncanny ability to slip out of any type of predicament, no matter how deadly. Honestly, Sheila hadn’t given one thought about him since she had arrived. But now she had no choice.

“What happened to him after I left Ryudain?” Sheila asked Pelu. She might have asked Illyria, but when Illyria had told her a half-truth a moment ago, Sheila’s trust for her slipped a notch.

“Laric cast a binding spell on him and sent him back to Perian to answer for his evil deeds. But he escaped during the journey. We’ve heard rumors that he had resurfaced in the past couple months, but until now, it was like he had vanished.”

“Not vanished. Just hiding like a coward.” Illyria’s voice came out bitter and angry. More than once Mardock had been a key player in schemes to slaughter her beloved unicorns for their power. “He’s no match for your father.” Illyria comforted Serena.

Sheila didn’t feel very comforted, though. The last time she had spent an extended period of time in this world, Mardock had sent terrifying dreams to her on many nights. In fact, that was how her lessons with Micula had begun, to help Sheila ward off the nightmares. However, it was very likely that Mardock had no idea that she was back. Now that Sheila was older and more experienced, she recognized that although Mardock had undeniable skills as a wizard, there were far more powerful wizards out there. Clearly, Krondor fell into that category.

Suddenly, Sheila realized that she felt fine. The concoction that Pelu and Jahnus had administered had worked like a charm. Now that she could think again, she remembered her last vision. It had been about Darian.

She wasn’t able to describe exactly how she knew whether she was seeing the past, present, or future during her visions, but Sheila always knew. This vision was definitely a vision of the past, about one year ago.

~*~

_In an open area near the castle where the unicorns could enjoy their freedom, Darian brushed down Wildwing’s coat. The unicorns could not bear to be trapped in the stables with the rest of the horses, so they frolicked here on a large patch of high land just outside the gates of the city._

_Dian walked up the hill, ambling toward him. She wasn’t a girl anymore. She was a young woman, beautiful, and she actually looked happy. Her dark hair fell to her waist and it was the long skirt that threw Sheila off. She had never seen Dian in anything but a tunic. The long green fabric clung to her hips, moving with her as she walked, showing just how feminine her curves were. By the look on Darian’s face, her beauty was not lost on him._

_“Illyria asked me to come and remind you that you have to be back in the Great Hall by sundown to greet King Tutala and his entourage.”_

_Darian sighed, not looking thrilled about the idea._

_“Do you think they’d miss me if I_ forgot _to go?”_

_Dian smirked at him._

_“Probably. Illyria definitely would.” She stared at him for a quiet moment and said softly, “and so would I.”_

_He looked intently at her but remained silent. He seemed to be struggling with something. But he just stood there, looking at her._

_“She may never come back, you know.” Dian’s voice didn’t sound happy but didn’t sound nearly as bitter as Sheila had remembered it._

_“I know.” It looked like it actually caused him physical pain to admit that. After another long, uncomfortable silence, Darian broke eye contact and began brushing Wildwing again. “I’ll be back down and dressed in time to greet our visitors.”_

_She watched him for another long moment before she turned to go, but he remained fixed on brushing down the unicorn’s flank. With a nearly inaudible sigh, she started back down the gentle slope._

_“Dian…” he called after her._

_“Yes?” She turned around._

_“Are you planning on singing tonight? I mean, for King Tutala.” Darian seemed to stumble on his words._

_“Yes. Laric asked me to prepare a handful of songs for tonight.”_

_“I liked the song you sang last night…”_

_She looked at him questioningly._

_“I was walking through the stables, and I heard you singing.” He blushed a little._

_“That was a new song I’ve been writing. It’s called Mourning Light. I just finished it, actually.”_

_“Would you sing it tonight?”_

_Dian smiled, her face lighting up._

_“I’d be honored.”_

_Darian smiled back at her, and watched her as she walked down the hill, back toward the castle._

~*~

Sheila pushed the images to the back of her mind as she stood and began helping the others prepare to ride. She also worked on pushing her jealousy to the back of her mind. Clearly Darian had been growing feelings for Dian while Sheila had been away. Perhaps they had even developed a relationship in months following the time in Sheila’s vision. But Dian was dead now, and feeling jealous over a dead woman was not only unproductive, but it was also silly. If Darian indulged his jealousy over every guy Sheila had dated, there wouldn’t be any room for anything else. Besides, after her botched magic experiment, Sheila knew that she needed to reign in her intense feelings for Darian.

Illyria stood still in the failing light, watching Serena hop up onto Moonbeam’s back without any help or a saddle. The little girl looked completely at home up on the unicorn’s bare back. Sheila stood next to Illyria, watching Serena steer the beast with only the slight pressure of her legs and an encouraging clicking noise from her mouth.

“Aren’t you worried about bringing her with us into battle?” Sheila couldn’t imagine putting this child in danger. Illyria’s expression didn’t change as she watched her daughter trot off, following Nanine and Zanara-Ki down a winding path.

“I will worry about her, whether she is riding with us or hiding in the farthest deepest jungle. At least, with me, I know that I can defend her with my last dying breath.”

“But wouldn’t she be safer if you sent her into hiding?”

“No. Krondor would find her.”

“Only if he was looking.” A terrible feeling spread across Sheila. “Is he looking?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“She is the magical daughter of a powerful mage and the Unicorn Queen.”

“But she’s too young to be useful to him now. Why would he bother?”

Illyria stayed silent for so long that Sheila thought that she wasn’t going to answer. But then Illyria’s normally bold voice came out soft, barely a whisper.

“Serena is the first person in a millennium who can command the unicorns.”

“But you can command the unicorns…” Sheila didn’t understand.

“No.” Illyria shook her head. “I have a strong connection to them. That is true. Sometimes it’s as if I can understand my own Quiet Storm’s thoughts. But I do not command them. Quite the opposite, actually.”

“But Serena can…”

“Yes. She hasn’t been told yet. Micula has been working with her to help her control her natural abilities. But she doesn’t know. Only Micula, Laric, and I know. And now you.”

“And Krondor.” Sheila’s thoughts darkened as she thought of this mysterious mage preying on Illyria’s daughter, using her for his own evil gain.

“Yes, and he’ll do anything to capture her. That’s probably the only reason Laric is still alive, to lure us to him.”

“Damn.”

“Please do not tell the others. I only tell you because, as a magician, you will likely sense it on your own eventually anyways. Better for you to know now than discover it later.”

“I won’t tell anyone.” Sheila felt honored at being trusted. “Darian hasn’t been told?”

“No. He would just worry more about her. He has enough worries at the moment,” Illyria’s voice lowered, pointedly.

“Where is he, Illyria?” Sheila had not forgotten how Illyria had dodged her question earlier.

“As I said before, I sent him on ahead to find lodging for us.”

“I know what you said. What I’m interested in is what you didn’t say,” Sheila challenged the strong woman who stood before her. There had been a time when Sheila would never dream of standing up to Illyria as her equal, but times had changed. Sheila had changed. She met Illyria’s strangely expressionless eyes. Illyria had learned a trick or two about hiding her feelings since Sheila had left this land. Perhaps that came with the living life as a Queen, with eyes on you, looking for your reaction all the time.

“Darian requested to go on ahead. If you want more information, you’ll have to talk to him directly.”

With that, Illyria mounted Quiet Storm and headed down the narrow dirt path.

~*~

Thankfully, Thunder seemed to know where he was going in the darkness. At least Sheila hoped he did as they picked their way up a rocky hill. As they crested the top of the hill, she let her shoulders relax a little when she saw the other riders down below, talking with the probable owners of the farmhouse that was the only sign of life in the black expanse before her. In the light of a half dozen bright lanterns, she could see several other buildings that looked like a barn, a woodshed, and a smokehouse. The barn wouldn’t fit all of the riders, especially since they were traveling with several dozen of Laric’s men, but the farm’s fields were certainly large enough for their tents.

Sheila spotted Darian talking to Myno over by the farm’s well.

“Not tonight, Myno.” Darian didn’t sound happy with the woman who once could have put him over her knee. Perhaps she still could. Sheila grinned at the thought. Luckily, neither of them was paying any attention to her.

“Illyria has tasked me with making sure that everyone is ready for battle, and that is what I intend to do.”

“These people may sympathize with our cause, but they will not allow us to hold sword practice in the middle of the night in their wheat field.” He sounded like he was growing more aggravated by the longevity of this conversation.

“The safety of our warriors is far more important than their precious sleep.”

“You should have thought of that when it was light out.”

“Watch your tongue, pup. You think I can’t still put you in your place?” she challenged him.

“Myno,” he said, sounding tired. “You could give me a good ol’ spanking any day of the week if you wanted to.” Sheila could hear the smile in his voice as he said that. “But you know as well as I do that these kind people are putting their lives at risk by letting us stay here. The least we can do is honor their sacrifice by letting them have a good night’s rest.”

Sheila could tell by the pause in the argument that he had finally gotten through to the stubborn woman.

“Fine, then you make sure that you have everyone gathered at first light for drills, especially Sheila and Jeno. They both need the practice.”

With that, Myno left Darian to unsaddle Wildwing.

Sheila slipped down off her horse with a small wince. She knew that tomorrow it would take a lot of courage to get back on that horse, knowing what discomfort lay ahead. But she also knew that it was temporary. Eventually, she would get back into the rhythm of life on the road. She had done it before.

She unsaddled Thunder, waiting for Darian to say something to her. But he didn’t. He seemed absorbed in thought as he lifted the heavy leather off Wildwing’s back. His arm muscles flexed in the moonlight with the effort. It took every ounce of self-control for her to tear her eyes off him and focus on the task at hand. She hefted her own saddle and placed it inside the barn next to the others. Her purse was still strapped to it. At seeing it, she untied it and brought it with her up to the loft for some privacy.

Settled on a bale of hay, she took a deep breath and pulled out the picture of her parents. They looked so happy in this picture. It was taken on their last family vacation together to Disney World. The picture was taken in front of the castle in the Magic Kingdom. Sheila wasn’t in the picture because she had taken it with the new camera they had bought her the Christmas after she had returned home from Ryudain.

Darian poked his head up into the loft, clearing his throat. Sheila looked up, hoping that he couldn’t see the wetness on her cheeks.

“Can I come up?”

After a moment of hesitation, she decided that saying no would create more of a hassle than just relenting.

“Okay.” She turned her head away and quickly wiped her cheeks dry. She felt him sit down next to her as the hay shifted.

“Can I take a look?” He motioned toward the picture. She had shown him pictures before, when she had brought her Polaroid with her on her previous journey. Thankfully he didn’t believe in the same superstition that Jeno’s people did – that taking a person’s image meant that you had taken their soul. She handed him the picture, careful not to brush fingers with him now that her gloves were off.

“Your parents?” he asked, holding the picture delicately.

“Yeah.”

His eyebrows raised in surprise.

“Is this your castle?”

Sheila smiled. They had had the same misunderstanding over a t-shirt she had brought him with a unicorn picture on it.

“No, it’s not a real castle. It’s just a place people in my world go to for fun. It’s make-believe.”

“Make-believe?”

Sheila sighed, trying to think of a good way to explain make-believe.

“When you were little, did you ever pretend to slay creatures that weren’t real, or go to places that didn’t exist?”

“Sure, every kid does.”

“That’s what make-believe is.”

“So, castles don’t really exist in your world?”

“Well, actually, they do.” Sheila frowned at her contradiction. “But they are very old, and generally, kings and queens don’t live in them anymore. The place in this picture is just a fake castle. Nobody lives there. It’s just a place people to go for fun, like a festival.”

“Your parents look like they were having fun,” he said solemnly.

“They were.” Sheila didn’t say any more, for fear that she would cry.

“You’re lucky,” Darian said quietly.

“What?”

“I forget what my parents looked like. You are lucky to have this reminder.” He handed the picture back to Sheila. She wasn’t sure what to say. He had a point. She had been so intent on her own loss, that she had forgotten that he, too, was an orphan. “Sheila, I’ve been thinking about earlier…”

She was surprised by the sudden shift in conversation.

“My vision…”

“Yes, your vision. I think we should keep our distance from each other. Until you master the protection shield. Until Micula says you are ready.” He swallowed and looked up at Sheila, regret in his eyes.

“That’s why you left today, isn’t it? Because you didn’t want to trigger another vision.” Sheila felt hollow, as if she could crawl inside herself and never come out. She had scared him, and now he didn’t trust her.

“You’ve had two visions since you arrived, and both have been when you touched me.”

“So, what, you’re going to stay away from me?” She could hear herself getting angry but couldn’t stop the words from tumbling out of her mouth. “You don’t trust me not to jump your bones?” Sarcasm laced her voice. In a small corner of her mind she knew that she was overreacting, but she didn’t care. Anger was a most effective numbing agent.

“Sheila, you know that’s not true.”

“Afraid I’ll have another vision of you and Dian?” she scoffed.

Darian paled and looked as if Sheila had slapped him. Perhaps there was indeed much more to the relationship than what Sheila had seen in her vision.

“Don’t worry, Darian. I’ll keep my distance.” Sheila left him staring at her as she climbed down the ladder, out of the barn, and into the night.


	5. Sisters of Thaumaturgy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Sheila is stubborn and sullen. And does some training. And then breaks the silence with Darian.

As the days and nights passed by, Sheila resolutely kept her distance from Darian, focusing on her lessons with Micula as the group slowly made their way across Krondor’s lands. They had been traveling exclusively at night for the past week, and Illyria looked uneasy. None of Krondor’s men had come to attack them. Sheila knew that their group was being cautious about who they interacted with, but no matter how cautious they were, Krondor must have been aware by now that they were gaining distance into his lands. The question was, why didn’t he attack? Nobody, not even Micula, had any answers to that question.

Sheila certainly didn’t have the answers. She could barely focus on her own magical progress. Since her fight with Darian, she had avoided any unnecessary contact with anyone in the group. Each night she awoke, applied her dark eye makeup, and headed silently for the practice ring. The makeup made her feel safer and stronger, like the warrior paint they donned back when she had first met the Hickorites. It also served as a convenient barrier between her and the others. At first everyone gave her searching looks, trying to connect with her, but they soon got the hint that she had no desire to talk.

Her skills with the sword and the bow returned quickly to the level she had achieved seven years ago. Once the muscles reawakened, she remembered most of what Illyria and Kara had taught her as a teenager. With her taekwondo skills added to the reemerging sword skills and her newfound focus, Sheila soon became as formidable in the practice ring as the other women. Even Myno had complimented her on her progress.

The lessons with Micula proved equally as productive. By the second week of their journey, Sheila could hold a field around her entire body constantly without having to think about it. With Micula’s help, she had learned that buffering non-physical elements, such as visions, other people’s emotions, and remote psychic attacks (like the nightmares Mardock had once sent to her) took minimal effort under normal circumstances. Grudgingly, Sheila admitted that Micula was right about how effortless she now found it to unconsciously keep up her barrier. Only if a powerful sorcerer were nearby and actively attacking her, would she need to shore up her defenses. She was still getting used to the notion that she could touch others with ease now.

Last night, for the first time, she had braved sparring practice without long sleeves and gloves. Even when she had been fully focused on the battle in the ring, locked in hand-to-hand combat with Zanara-ki, the visions remained at bay. For a moment, she had been so excited that she’d reflexively looked over to seek out Darian to share the good news, but Zanara-ki took advantage of her distraction, sweeping her feet out from under her. Ultimately, Sheila was grateful, even as she wiped the dust off her behind, because part of her was still annoyed with Darian.

Having successfully learned how to prevent the visions, she and Micula had begun working on other, more advanced magicks that might prove useful in battle. Micula had taught her how to hide her presence from other sorcerers, as well as how to communicate with someone during a vision of the present. Sheila still hadn’t perfected the latter magic, but Micula worked carefully to offer her controlled visions for practice. Most of Sheila’s lack of progress stemmed from her resistance to these visions.

“Sheila, you must allow the vision through your shield.” Micula’s voice never rose above that patient, no-nonsense tone she always used. Sheila pulled her hand off the woman’s bare forearm.

“No.” She struggled to keep the fear out of her voice.

“Why not?”

It felt redundant for her to explain it to Micula, since the woman always seemed to read her mind. Never-the-less, Sheila answered the question.

“Because I don’t ever plan on allowing another vision through. Ever. So why practice communicating through one?”

She sat down on the mossy ground, her back against an enormous tree, hugging her legs to her chest. The sun was beginning to set, and they would be riding out soon. All she wanted to do was find Thunder and ride hard and fast away from this woman. Sheila and Thunder had finally come to an understanding. Sheila would give him as many treats as he could stomach, and in return Thunder would offer a smoother gait and less resistance when called. She was beginning to believe that horses may not be any less intelligent than the unicorns. But Thunder couldn’t save her now. Nothing, except perhaps a convenient tornado could save her from another hour with Laric’s sister. And even that wasn’t a sure bet. Just ask Dorothy. There was always a replacement witch in Oz.

“You are gifted with these visions for a reason, Sheila. You cannot just ignore them.”

“They are not a gift,” she mumbled.

“Believe what you will, but you must have noticed how much stronger they’ve been getting.”

Sheila looked up at Micula, interested, but trying not show it.

“So?”

“The more you try to resist the visions, the more they will control you, poison you. Sisters of Thaumaturgy are conduits, not vessels to be filled. You must learn how to let the visions flow through you. Once you truly accept them, I can show you how to funnel the magic more productively.”

“Sisters of…?”

“Thaumaturgy. That is the name we give the women in Perian who are blessed with visions like yours. They are taken into training as children, to learn how to control the visions and to use them in service for the highest good. Some of the Sisters stay on to become teachers to the young ones, while others serve the royal family. Some even live normal lives. But they all live by strict codes of honor.”

Sheila’s mind swam with this news. For so long she had assumed that she was alone with this burden, that she was the only one. Or at least she had thought that only a rare few, like Micula, could see anything similar to this special sight. Now she felt a bit naïve. But still, it didn’t feel right that she should be considered among these Sisters of Whatever.

“I’m not like these _Sisters_. I didn’t start having visions until a little over a year ago.”

“As you’ve said to me on more than one occasion, you are not from a world of magic, Sheila. It is likely that your abilities had been growing all along but were not as noticeable as they would have been here. Think… can you recall being more sensitive to other people’s emotions before the visions began?”

Sheila’s mind raced back to her last years in high school. So many times her instincts had served her well, like the time she felt that one of her teachers had more than plutonic intentions toward Alice, one of the shyest female students. Sheila had arranged for the principal to walk in on the teacher’s first advances toward the girl. Everybody else in the school had been stunned and horrified when Mr. Hayden was fired, not believing the rumors.

At the time, Sheila had passed off the situation as plain old intuition. But now as she thought back, she could name dozens of times when her intuition came forth and saved her or her friends from bad situations. If only the visions had come before her parents’ accident…

She swallowed the lump that suddenly appeared in her throat. Could she have prevented their deaths? She didn’t know. She would never know. The past was past, and all she could do was move forward in the here and now. Perhaps she could use her powers now to save others in this world. She had been working so hard to keep a safe emotional distance from her former friends, but if she was being honest with herself, she knew that if any of them were hurt because she refused to acknowledge these abilities, she would never be able to forgive herself. Sheila’s resistance to Micula eased a notch, and she allowed her natural curiosity to bubble to the surface.

“You mentioned that they live by a strict code…”

“It is required. As you know, if these visions were made available to our enemies, that would be… unfortunate.” She leveled Sheila with a dark look. “The code is written in three large volumes, but the fundamentals of the code are fairly straightforward. Sisters of Thaumaturgy pledge to use their visions for the common good. Sisters who use their gifts to support our enemies forfeit their lives.”

“Got it. No fighting for the bad guys.”

“They also pledge not to physically interfere with a situation that is occurring during a vision.”

“Is that even possible?” Sheila couldn’t imagine interacting with her visions.

“Quite. Once we _practice more_ ,” Micula’s voice was laced with emphasis, “you will begin to see just how much more there is to these visions of yours. But you must also abide by the code. You are allowed to communicate with people in your visions, but you must not try to physically manifest yourself or any actions in your visions. I have seen women caught between their visions and reality. They are unable to re-establish the connection to their bodies.”

“What happens to them then?”

“They stay in a state of catatonia indefinitely.”

“Indefinitely?”

“Well, until their bodies whither and perish of starvation.”

Sheila stared at Micula in disbelief. If she had been wary of practicing before, now she was petrified.

“In addition, you must never attempt to change the past. I cannot emphasize this enough, Sheila. The results could be disastrous. Do you understand?”

She understood the words but couldn’t see how _disastrous_ could be any worse than a life sentence of catatonia _._ Sheila nodded anyway. It must have been enough for Micula, as she continued lecturing.

“Finally, you must respect the privacy of all the people you see in your visions. Often times you cannot choose what you see. And for that reason, you must understand that you will frequently be witness to intimate, private things that are not meant for others’ eyes.”

Sheila’s cheeks burned as she recalled the vision of Darian and Dian. Deep down Sheila knew that she should never have mentioned it to Darian. Sure, the vision was something he had personally experienced, so she hadn’t violated his privacy, but mentioning it with the purpose of hurting him… well, that certainly wasn’t for the _common good_. She knew she had violated that aspect of the _Sisters’_ code, not to mention Sheila’s own personal code.

“I understand.” Sheila looked into Micula’s stern gaze.

“Good.”

Sheila took a deep breath.

“So, if we do this - no more headaches?”

“If you had a true instructor from the beginning, you would have learned how to channel the energy so that you feel exhilarated after a vision, instead of drained. You’ve been spending all of your energy trying to stop your visions. That is like trying to hold back a tidal wave. What we need to do now is show you how to ride the wave instead of letting it crush you.”

“I don’t understand why they are so much worse since I got here.”

“Of course you do.”

Sheila bristled.

“Excuse me?”

“You know why they are worse. You don’t need to ask me that.”

“If I knew, I wouldn’t ask,” she spoke through gritted teeth.

“Why do you think they are worse?”

Sheer stubbornness held back Sheila from answering. _Why couldn’t Micula ever give a straight fucking answer_ , she fumed.

“Sheila, your anger will not help you here.”

“Fine. If I had to guess, I would say that they are stronger because this is a land of magic and Earth isn’t.”

“And…”

“And the visions have been more intense.”

“And why have they been more intense, Sheila?”

Sheila suddenly knew the answer, but she would never give Micula the satisfaction of forcing the words out of her mouth. Clearly, Micula already knew that the visions were more intense because they were about people that Sheila loved. Instead being a mere spectator like she had been with her Earth visions, she had tapped into the emotional suffering of the people she cared about. But Micula already knew that.

“Shall we begin?” Sheila stood up, ignoring the sorceress’ question.

“As you wish.” Micula held out her arm. “As you touch my arm, think of Tarrin. I will be thinking of him as well, guiding you toward him. He is aware that we will be attempting to contact him. When you see him in your vision, attempt to speak to him, not with your lips, but with your mind.”

Sheila reached out to touch her, but Micula pulled back for a moment.

“One other thing. As the vision comes to you, imagine the sensation of soaking it in, like water to a sponge. But before you end the vision, let the water, or rather – the magic, slide harmlessly down your body and back to the ground where it belongs.”

“Okay.” Sheila cautiously loosened her magical barriers and touched the tips of her fingers to Micula’s arm, thinking of Tarrin, wondering where she would find him. Almost immediately she saw him down by the small pond that the unicorns had purified for their drinking water. A few of the horses also drank from the cool reserve. Tarrin stood next to a low-hanging branch, doing something that seemed to require a lot of concentration. As Sheila looked closer, she saw the heavy needle and the saddle draped over the branch. For a large man, he created remarkably delicate stitches in the leather.

 _Can you hear me?_ Sheila thought at him. He jumped a little and Sheila struggled not to laugh.

“Yes I can hear you.” He didn’t appear either happy or unhappy to be participating in this experiment.

 _Umm… how are you?_ Sheila felt lame as soon as the words left her mind. How was she supposed to know what was appropriate small talk when one was mind-talking to someone through a vision?

“I’ve had better decades. And you?” He raised an eyebrow.

_Same here._

“Well, it appears as if you can communicate through your visions.” Sheila knew that the unspoken portion of his statement was probably ‘so you can go away now and leave me in peace _._ ’ But she wasn’t ready to end the experiment.

_I wonder if I can hear you if you don’t speak back, but you think back instead…_

“No harm in trying. When I raise my hand, I’ll be thinking something.”

Sheila waited, trying to tune into his thoughts. He raised his hand, but she didn’t hear anything except for the nature sounds surrounding him.

_It didn’t work. What were you thinking?_

“I was thinking that I must look foolish as hell, standing here talking to my saddle. Ah, damn.”

_What?_

“Looks like your young man thinks so too.”

Sheila shifted her focus in the vision and saw Darian walking toward Tarrin with a puzzled look on his face.

“Who are you talking to?”

“Who does it look like I’m talking to?” Tarrin played the persnickety old man role so well that Sheila wasn’t quite sure if he were really that contrary, or if he just liked to get a rise out of people. It didn’t seem to faze Darian, though.

“It looks like you’re talking to your saddle.” He grinned.

“Mmph.” Tarrin made a non-committal noise.

Sheila didn’t feel ready to talk to Darian, and this definitely wasn’t the appropriate venue for their next conversation. But she couldn’t help herself from watching as the two men talked about the best stitching techniques for aged leather. Darian’s sleeveless tunic accentuated the muscles in his arms, and the orange rays of the setting sun cast long shadows around them. She felt the urge to run a finger along the crescent moon scar on his right arm, to feel the smooth skin under her fingertip. Darian shivered and jumped a little, as if he had been touched.

Panicked, Sheila ripped herself out of the vision and at the very last moment, remembered to push the energy into the ground beneath her. Her breath came fast and unsteady as she became aware of her body again. How close had she come to doing the very thing Micula had just warned her against?

“What is wrong?” Micula’s brow furrowed with concern.

“Nothing.” Sheila put everything she had into blocking Micula from her mind. “It will be dark soon. It’s time to ride out.” She turned towards the grove where she had left Thunder, but Micula grabbed her arm in a tight grip.

“Not so fast.” Micula tilted her head at Sheila, who tensed even further. “Were you able to communicate with Tarrin?”

Sheila nodded stiffly. At Micula’s raised eyebrow, she expanded, “Yes, he was able to hear me just fine.” As Micula continued to stare at her, Sheila raked her mind of something else she was willing to share. “I could, uh, hear him fine when he spoke aloud, but I couldn’t hear his thoughts. We tried… but it didn’t work.”

Micula nodded and released her grip on Sheila.

“That is to be expected. Only a rare few can have true mind-to-mind communication. Although, with Tarrin’s gifts, I would have thought he’d be capable… Perhaps he cannot mindshare with _humans_ ,” she mused. “Anything else of note?”

“No, that was pretty much it.” Sheila busied herself with pulling her braids back into a haphazard ponytail. After a long moment, Micula nodded and walked away without another word. Sheila slouched in relief. She knew she’d have to be much more careful as she practiced in the future. The thought of being trapped inside her own mind sent a shiver down her spine that had nothing to do with the setting sun. Troubled, Sheila strode towards Thunder, unable to appreciate her success or the absence of a migraine.

~*~

Three days later, as they approached the outskirts of Krondor City, two tiny brown birds buzzed into the makeshift campsite and landed on Tarrin’s outstretched arm. He nodded and made noises as if he could understand the frantic chirping of the two messengers. Sheila had learned recently that Tarrin had an unusual affinity with animals. Apparently, he could share memories with them, and even communicate with them to a certain extent.

All of the riders gathered around to hear what news his familiars brought. Sheila watched Lianne carefully. If the news was bad, it would probably take all of the riders to prevent her from riding off and doing something foolish. She would crave vengeance and would have nothing left to lose, which Sheila knew was never a healthy combination. Illyria watched Lianne as well. Sheila and Illyria shared a brief look, and Sheila knew that they shared similar thoughts.

If anyone had respected her need for distance these past weeks, it was Illyria. She, too, had retreated into herself, only surfacing to care for Serena. Serena wasn’t hurting for attention, though. When Micula wasn’t giving her lessons and Myno wasn’t training her in combat, one of the other women or Darian would keep her company, playing with her or teaching her something useful. Right now she was carefully balanced on Pelu’s knee, plaiting Pelu’s long ash-blonde hair.

Tarrin cleared his throat and waited until he had everyone’s attention.

“What news?” Illyria prompted.

“Kara is still being held in the castle’s dungeon in Krondor City. She’s alive.”

Lianne sat down on a fallen log, her shoulders sagging with relief.

“However, I’m sad to say that Tutu and Lima could not locate Laric.” Tarrin didn’t look sad to Sheila. But at least he didn’t look happy either.

“Then that supports Serena’s vision of Laric on the sailing ship.” Pelu ran a comforting hand over Serena’s golden hair.

“Yes, it does.” Illyria moved to the center of the small circle of women and men. “Tonight Micula, Sheila, and I will slip into the city and rescue Kara and any of our other people who are still alive.” At the first sign of protest from the other riders and Laric’s men, Illyria held up her hand. “We would be too conspicuous in a large group. Besides, we are dealing with magic here, not an army.”

Lianne stood and stepped forward.

“I would like to go with you, Illyria.”

“You have no magic, Lianne.”

“Neither do you,” she said softly.

It took a moment for Illyria to control the shock on her face. She obviously hadn’t expected the delicate woman to stand up to her.

“Please Illyria, she’s my sister. She once saved me. I must do no less for her.” Lianne lifted her chin and met Illyria’s challenging gaze with a fierceness that impressed Sheila. It must have impressed Illyria too.

“Very well then. We ride at full dark.” With that, the Unicorn Queen stalked off into the trees.

Sheila wasn’t surprised that Illyria had chosen her for tonight’s mission, but she was still nervous. Micula would be able to hold her own, and by sheer force of will Illyria and Lianne would probably make it through the night, but Sheila still didn’t feel as confident in her own abilities. If this were hand-to-hand combat, she wouldn’t be half as worried. But as things stood, the only valuable skill she had acquired was shielding herself from wizards and a basic protection spell.

Nanine broke into her thoughts.

“It takes a pompous man to name a city after himself,” the dark-skinned warrior scoffed with disgust.

“When we defeat him we can change it to anything we want,” Darian piped in.

“We are _not_ calling it Darian City!” Jeno held his hands up, as if warding off the horrific idea.

“Why not?” Darian managed to sound hurt for a very brief moment. “It’s better than Jeno City.”

“Oh, I like that,” Pelu grinned.

“Nanine City is much better,” Nanine declared in all seriousness. As the others laughed at her, she launched into a heated explanation of why Nanine City was a perfectly respectable name for a city, which made the others laugh even harder.

Sheila walked away from the jocular group, unable to share in the lighthearted banter. In a few hours she would be riding into trouble, and she just couldn’t summon any good humor. Besides, she still wasn’t officially speaking to Darian. It didn’t feel right to joke with him.

She had tried talking to him last night. She still hadn’t been ready to admit that she’d overreacted, but she thought that perhaps they could at least talk about it. However, when Sheila had brought Thunder up beside Wildwing on the trail, Darian had leaned forward and urged the unicorn into a gallop before Sheila had gotten a chance to say anything. His stubbornness was so infuriating. More than anything else though, it saddened her to think that things with Darian were over before they had truly begun.

The late afternoon sun beat down on Sheila as she headed toward the gurgling nearby river. Her black clad legs grew hot enough for her to slip out of her jeans. Lianne had taken pity on her one day, seeing her sweating in her black long-sleeved shirt, and let her borrow one of Kara’s tunics. The soft green material fell to about mid-thigh. Back home, wearing a skirt that short would have been asking for trouble, but here propriety meant something very different. She would find herself in more trouble if she couldn’t hold a bow correctly.

Tension gripping her shoulders, Sheila stretched for a few minutes and then began moving her arms and legs into various taekwondo positions. She spun and kicked and punched an invisible enemy until her limbs felt tired and heavy. Sweating, she slipped into the cool river, letting the water slip up over her shoulders. She tipped her head back, soaking her long braids all the way to their roots.

As she sloughed out of the rushing current, squeezing water from the fabric of her tunic, she found herself face-to-face with Darian. Actually, his face pointed downwards. He couldn’t seem to tear his gaze from her slender freckled legs. Sheila made a noise in her throat, which seemed to break the spell.

“Hi,” Darian managed to say.

“Hi,” she volleyed back, keeping her face impassive.

“Illyria wanted me to tell you that Micula has some robes for you.” Color crept up his face. “Not that you need robes right now. I mean, the robes are for later. For getting into the castle.”

“Okay…” Sheila had to admit that she was enjoying Darian’s discomfort quite a bit. It was nice to have the shoe on the other foot, so-to-speak.

“That’s it. That’s all she wanted me to tell you.”

“Then, mission accomplished.”

“Yeah.” But he didn’t move to go.

It was Sheila’s turn to blush. Tunics could hide a multitude of sins, but not the one that became glaringly obvious as her eyes dropped below his waist.

“Darian…” She tried to sound angry but couldn’t quite manage it.

“Look, Sheila, I’m sorry.” He took a small step toward her, cautiously, as if trying not to scare her off. “I didn’t mean to imply whatever it was you thought I was implying. I just didn’t want to hurt you anymore. And thing about Dian…” he trailed off, looking down at his feet. Sheila sighed.

“No, I’m sorry too. I wasn’t an angel while we were apart either. I have no right to be jealous…” Of course, that didn’t mean she still didn’t feel it, but that wasn’t Darian’s fault.

“Yesterday…” He looked embarrassed.

“Yeah?”

“I forgot that you weren’t riding Morning Star. When I rode ahead with Wildwing, I thought that you would race me. It wasn’t until I realized that you weren’t behind me anymore that I remembered.”

Sheila took a step toward him, part of her screaming for her to run away. If she let him in again that would mean that he could hurt her again. It was too late, though. Her body felt a physical ache at being this close to him but not touching him. She raised her hand and traced his scar with her index finger. He looked up sharply.

“That was you, the other day.”

“Yeah.”

“How?”

“I was practicing controlling my visions with Micula and Tarrin. I didn’t mean to touch you. It just… happened.”

Darian brought a hand up to Sheila’s cheek, looking at her in wonderment.

“You never cease to amaze me, Sheila McCarthy.” He leaned in as he spoke, and Sheila felt his breath, warm against her lips.

She leaned in and met his kiss, her mouth open, inviting him inside. As their tongues met, he pulled back sharply.

“Oh, Goddess! Sheila, I’m so sorry!”

“What?” Sheila blinked, confused.

“I didn’t mean to– Wait… you didn’t have a vision…”

Amused, Sheila shook her head.

“No, I’ve had those under control for over a week now.”

She watched as the relief that passed over his face quickly changed to hunger.

“So much wasted time,” he muttered as he leaned in, then pressed his lips to hers once again, quickly invading her mouth again with his tongue.

Arms wrapped around each other, they pulled closer together until Sheila could feel that which had made her blush moments ago. The feel of him pressed against her sent waves of sensation down her stomach and into that nexus between her legs. Sheila reached between their bodies and slid her hand over him. He gasped in her mouth and pulled her tighter, trapping her hand between them. His strong hands cupped her butt and lifted her off the ground until her legs wrapped around his waist. It was Sheila’s turn to gasp as she felt his hardness pressing against her most sensitive area. Even through the layers of his tunic and her underwear, she felt every inch of him sliding between her legs, teasing. Sheila lost herself in the sensation of rubbing against him while he kissed her hungrily, moaning in her mouth. If they continued, she knew that they could both pass the point of no return. Some distant part of her brought her back to reality.

“Wait,” she breathed.

“What?” He tried to kiss her again. She kissed him briefly but pulled away.

“Not here.” She reluctantly lowered her legs and straightened her tunic. “Someone could come any second.”

“You’re telling me.” He smirked.

Sheila buried her head in his shoulder and laughed.

“No, I mean there’s no privacy here.”

As if the Goddess Moon herself were trying to prove the point, Serena chose that moment to come running down the hill toward the river.

“Uncle Darian!”

“Oh, no, I can’t let her see me like this.” He gestured down to the obvious tent in the fabric below his waist. “You’ve got to help me.”

“What do you want me to do about it?” Sheila laced her voice with innuendo and smirked.

“There’s no time for that.” He definitely sounded disappointed. “Hand me your pants.”

“What?”

“Your pants… give them to me,” he whispered frantically.

“Okay…”

Sheila scooped them off the ground and handed them to Darian just in time. He draped them over his arm, somehow managing to look casual.

“Uncle Darian, can we go swimming?”

She looked so hopeful that even Sheila didn’t want him to say no. She met his eyes over the little girl’s head and let him know that it was okay.

“Sure,” he agreed to a delighted Serena.

“Sheila, do you want to go swimming too?”

“Nah, you guys go ahead, I already had my turn.”

“Is it cold?” she asked, hopefully. The afternoon bordered on sweltering.

“It sure is.”

Darian finally looked relieved.

“Thank the Goddess Moon for that.” In a flash he dropped Sheila’s pants to the ground and dove into the freezing water.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next week, stay tuned for the (finally) completed Chapter 6! Yes, after more than a decade, the illusive chapter 6 is complete. And chapter 7 is well under way. I'm not sure yet how many chapters this story will end up being... because new plot bunnies keep hopping into my head, turning this story into something that might just end up being epic. Mwuhuahahaah!


	6. Krondor City

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sheila, Micula, Illyria, and Lianne head into Krondor city to rescue Kara and the others.

Shrouded in stolen wizards’ cloaks, Illyria, Micula, Sheila, and Lianne approached the gates to Krondor City. They had considered trying to cross the river that rushed along one side of the castle but discounted that idea when they saw how strong the current flowed. Not even unicorns would have the strength to cross without getting swept away. Therefore, they chose to pose as returning wizards and try to gain access to the city and castle through the main entrances.

Illyria started the game, talking to Micula in a voice that carried to the guards’ ears.

“Those Hickorites never knew what hit them. One minute they were eating their dinner, and the next minute we had them buried in their own caves.” She laughed haughtily.

“I think we must have captured their stronghold faster than any other conquest. Krondor will reward us greatly,” Micula played along.

“As long as we aren’t late for our debriefing. You know what happened last time.”

“That poor guard who delayed us.” Micula shook her head in mock sadness. “He was just doing his job. Krondor didn’t have to remove his manhood with that spell. That was beyond cruel.”

Sheila ducked her head, hiding a smile as she watched one of the guards pale visibly. He whispered something to the other guard and almost magically the women were waved into the city without so much as a second look.

“Well done,” Lianne breathed with relief when they were out of earshot.

“That was the easy part.” Illyria led them through the torch-lined crowded streets. In the distance Sheila glimpsed dark shadows spotted with glowing windows, parts of Krondor’s castle standing high above the tallest buildings. “Getting into the castle will require more of Micula’s skills than mine.”

People on the cobblestone streets gave them a wide berth, fearful of the four shrouded wizards as they swept toward the castle. Sheila’s heart sped with excitement and fear as they approached the looming edifice. She had forgotten the rush of riding into danger, the giddy dread of entering into battle. Only this time, she felt stronger, less like an apprehensive fourteen-year-old and more like a powerful young woman. Sheila felt almost eager for a fight, some way to burn off the excess emotions that burned in her chest.

Darian had kissed her a lingering goodbye before she had departed for Krondor City. Sheila could still feel the press of his lips. She knew that he didn’t want her to go, that he didn’t want her riding into certain danger, especially when he couldn’t fight by her side. He had held her for a long moment and made her promise not to take any unnecessary risks. She promised, wanting to reassure him that everything would be ok. But she also knew that this wouldn’t be easy. According to one of the families who had offered them sanctuary during their journey, Krondor’s castle brimmed with spells and other wizards. Navigating it successfully would not be easy.

As the dark castle grew to a great height, looming over them as they walked closer, the women took stock of the security on the other side of the short bridge that spanned the even darker moat. Sheila shivered as she imagined what kind of unfriendly beasts lurked in those sloshing waters. Only two men guarded the enormous wooden doors. Micula quietly confirmed what Sheila had been thinking.

“Beyond the doors, several dozen guards stand waiting to pull up the bridge and defend the entrance to the castle if necessary.”

Despite her words of warning, though, Micula continued striding confidently over the bridge toward the two heavily armed men.

“Shouldn’t we rethink this,” Sheila hissed at the sorceress from the side of her mouth.

Micula didn’t respond has she stopped in front of the doors, as if they would swing open merely because she had granted them with her presence. The guards stood at attention and the one on the right demanded, “Today’s words for entry?”

Micula lifted her hood slightly and captured the guards’ eyes with her own.

“What are the words?” she asked in a quiet, odd voice that went right through Sheila. Sheila ached to know the words so that she could answer Micula’s question. All she wanted to do was answer Micula’s question. It almost physically hurt that she couldn’t.

In unison both guards answered,

“Lion’s mane.”

“You have done a great service to your king,” she said in the same voice. “Let this conversation remain between us.”

The men’s chests puffed out proudly as they nodded in affirmation to her command. Micula lowered her hood again and called out, “Lion’s Mane!”

The doors swung open slowly, surprisingly noiseless for such monstrous barricades.

~*~

The four women strode into the castle as if it were their own. Sheila felt her stomach roll with nervousness, but she pushed forward, with as much faux confidence as she could muster. Micula had warned them that Krondor’s mages bowed to no one, save for Krondor himself. If they were to remain believable in their cloaks, they needed to forge ahead without appearing anything but superior.

Micula lead them down a long corridor to the left, then another to the right, then right again, and down some stairs, then up some others, continuing to walk and turn until Sheila lost all sense of direction. She couldn’t see how Micula could possibly know where she was going, but she followed the enigmatic woman.

They heard voices up ahead, and Sheila saw Micula stiffen.

“What is it?” Illyria asked in a low voice as Micula’s pace slowed.

“Mages up ahead.”

“Is that a problem?” Sheila whispered, confused. Micula had told them she could befuddle most mages long enough to slip passed them.

Micula turned another corner to buy them some time.

“One of them is very powerful. I doubt my usual glamours will fool them.”

Sheila shivered at Micula’s admission. Whoever could give Micula pause was someone to reckon with.

“What shall we do?” Lianne’s voice squeaked.

In a moment Micula came to a decision.

“You three press on down this side hallway. I will stay behind and come up with something to hold them off.”

“You can’t be serious?” Sheila stared at the woman. “What chance do we have in this place without you?”

“More of a chance than if you stand here arguing nonsense with me,” she replied in her sternest voice. “Now, go.”

That was the end of the discussion. They left the sorceress as she began whispering incantations to protect the secrecy of their presence in the castle.

Illyria seemed to know her way almost as well as Micula, leading them in a maze of directions. Once or twice they passed servants as they wove through the halls. But everyone they encountered scurried away immediately, as if the last thing they wanted was an encounter with a mage.

The three woman stopped outside a small wooden door. Something about it bothered Sheila, but she couldn’t say why.

Lianne lifted the latch silently and eased the door open.

“Wait—” Sheila put a hand on Lianne’s arm.

“What?”

“I don’t know, but there’s something odd about that room…” Sheila’s skin crawled even more once the door was ajar about an inch. Illyria nodded.

“Micula mentioned that we would need to travel through a bespelled room and several other challenges before we could gain access to the prisoners’ cells.”

“Bespelled in what way?” Sheila didn’t like the sound of this.

“All she knew was that it wouldn’t be wise to linger. She said that if we just walked through it, then no harm would come to us.”

“Okay, move fast then.” Sheila ushered Lianne forward.

The three warriors entered a giant empty room with another door at the far end. Sheila walked swiftly forward, her eyes focused on getting to the other side. Suddenly, the few torches that hung on the walls guttered under a mysterious wind, then blew out completely. Sheila was plunged into a darkness so black that she stopped in her tracks, fearful of walking into the unknown.

“Illyria?” she called softly. “Lianne?” Her heart pounded at the silence that met her calls. Micula had warned them not to linger, but what could she do now? She moved cautiously forward with her hands out ahead of her. She knew that if she just kept walking straight, she should meet the door. So she walked. And walked. And kept walking until she realized that she should have reached the door three times over at this point. Frustration simmered within her, a welcome replacement for the fear.

After what felt like hours of walking, she stopped and puzzled over her next move. She couldn’t very well just sit down and do nothing. In a flash of brilliance, she recalled once seeing Micula perform a spell to create stars of light. Sheila had never tried it, and normally, Micula would have forbidden her to experiment with new spells on her own, but this situation called for drastic measures.

Sheila held out her hand in front of her, grounded herself automatically, and called out the foreign words she remembered from long ago. She yelped in pain as a ball of fire scorched her hand and disappeared, leaving only spots in her vision and a throbbing palm. _Dammit!_ She cursed herself for being so stupid. Of course, she needed to put up a stronger barrier before she tried such a thing.

Once again, putting the proper barriers in place this time, she called out the words of light, bringing forth a grapefruit-sized bright ball of fire. She willed the air around her body to shift it to hover several feet above her head.

Ah, now she could see. Sheila looked around, confused that she was still in the center of the large empty room, exactly where she had been when the lights had gone out. Illyria and Lianne were nowhere in sight. However, movement stirred in the far corner.

Sheila took several cautious steps toward the murky shadows, her hand resting on the hilt of the dagger sheathed to her forearm underneath the robe. As she grew nearer, she saw the outline of a tall, broad figure. She let out a gasp when she got close enough to recognize the man.

“Darian?”

“Sheila.”

“What are you doing here?” she whispered.

“What do you think I’m doing here?” he asked in a tone that indicated she should already know the answer.

“Illyria ordered you to stay behind. You need to go, quickly, before somebody sees you.” He wasn’t even shrouded in a wizard’s cloak. Sheila didn’t understand how he could have made it into the castle unseen.

“Illyria knew that you would fail at keeping them safe, so she ordered me to follow you.” His lip curled as he scoffed at her. “I should have known.”

“What?” Sheila stood, paralyzed by Darian’s hostility. “I don’t understand.”

“You warned me that you had changed. And you told me over and over again that you were no sorceress.” His nostrils flared in disgust, as if he’d smelled something foul. “I should have listened.”

“Darian…” Sheila’s heart caught in her throat. It felt like all the blood had been drained from her body as she stood there, frozen and horrified. She’d been expecting this moment, but to have it come now…

“You thought you could come back here and have everyone be happy to see you? You thought that I would still love you after you abandoned me all these years? Who could love someone as dark and selfish as you?” He started circling around her, spitting his harsh words that echoed off the stone walls. “You don’t belong here. Nobody wants you here. You should just send yourself back to where you came, like you did last time. That’s the only thing your _magic_ is good for,” he growled.

A solitary tear trickled down Sheila’s face as every word felt like a blow. Her chest squeezed and hitched as she fought to breathe, and the light over her head dimmed to half strength. He was right, she knew. She didn’t belong here. She didn’t belong anywhere anymore.

A gleam shone in Darian’s eyes as he noticed the tear, as if it satisfied him. He leaned forward and whispered into Sheila’s ear.

“Better yet, why don’t you take that dagger and make us all happier by using it to cleanse all worlds of your worthless presence.”

Sheila staggered back, her eyes glazed and wide in shock. How could Darian say such awful things to her? This wasn’t the man she knew. Sure, Darian could be headstrong and stubborn, but she’d never known him to be cruel.

“You’re too dangerous to risk the others by continuing to live. You’re a novice at magic, yet Micula fears your lack of control. Even Master Kim knows that you will never be worthy of a black belt, never be worthy of the title _Master_. You will forever bear the shame of the crimson cincture that warns others of your shortcomings. If you don’t end yourself, just think of what you could do to the others. Your recklessness endangers everyone, including little Serena. Do you want her to die at your hands the next time you lose control?”

Sheila stiffened at the mention of Master Kim. She’d never mentioned him to Darian or anyone here in Arren, not even Zanara-ki. Hot fury burned away her despair. This was not her Darian. Whoever or whatever this was, it was not the man she cared for.

Already grounded from when she’d conjured the light, she closed her eyes and pulled power from the floor beneath her feet. She felt the stone’s ageless, solid energy and used it to project a protection circle around her body. The magic surged through her immediately, as if its current was merely standing by, awaiting her command.

She felt the dark spell shatter. Behind her eyelids, Sheila saw a flash of light and blinked open her eyes just in time to see the false image of Darian disappear in a shimmer of golden sparkles. She might have found it beautiful if she wasn’t so incensed and terrified. At the far end of the room, a door swung open, as if in reward for passing a test. A strong gust of wind carried in fresh air, washing away the stench of her fear and re-lighting the torches on the walls. Sheila swallowed thickly and fled the room as quickly as her shaking legs would carry her.

~*~

Sheila held her throbbing hand close to her chest and sighed. She knew she was lost. She couldn’t find any sign of Lianne or Illyria, and she’d spent the last hour wandering around various corridors, peeking into rooms. At one point, she’d spied several wizards walking in her direction, so she’d quickly cast the spell to prevent them from sensing her presence, then ducked behind a nearby tapestry and watched as they entered one of the nearby rooms. _To hell with the confident mage routine_ , she thought. That was fine when she had back-up, but now that she was alone, she knew she had to be more cautious. So, she hid, and she waited. And waited.

She’d just come from that room. There was absolutely nothing in it except for some spare supplies. There were also no exits. When the wizards didn’t emerge after several long minutes, Sheila crept towards the room. They’d left the door ajar, so she lowered herself to her knees and peered around the doorframe.

The room was empty. But how could that be?

Feeling emboldened by the emptiness of the room, Sheila pushed herself off the floor and quietly slipped inside. There had to be a hidden doorway or something. However, as she checked all of the bundles of fabric, casks, crates, and other items, she couldn’t find any hint of how the wizards had exited.

At the sound of rustling out in the hallway, Sheila slipped behind the wooden door, praying that nobody would enter the room, otherwise she would be clearly visible. Whoever it was spoke in low voices that she couldn’t make out.

Sheila cursed inwardly as three wizards entered the storeroom. If any of them turned around, she would surely be discovered. She was about to recast her spell of protection, when one of the voices carried to her.

“There is supposed to be a stairwell in here. It leads to parts of the castle where the servants are not permitted.”

“Micula!” Sheila whisper-shouted, and the three women spun around, Illyria reaching for her hidden weapons, and Micula poised to utter a spell.

“Sheila!” Lianne whispered in return. “Thank the Goddess that you’re alright. We couldn’t find you anywhere!”

Something eased in Sheila’s chest at the relief she saw in Lianne’s and Illyria’s eyes at finding her.

“Where were you?” Lianne chided.

“That room…” Her hands had only recently stopped trembling. She didn’t want to recall the details, never mind share them with the others. They were too personal, hit too close to home. Micula tilted her head.

“You hesitated instead of walking right through.”

Sheila nodded.

Illyria and Lianne looked confused. Illyria approached Sheila.

“Are you alright?”

Micula saved Sheila from having to answer.

“A spell is triggered for anyone that pauses for even a moment while walking to the exit door. It brings to reality their worst fears.”

At Illyria’s concerned gaze, Sheila shifted uncomfortably, looking down at her booted toes that stuck out from her wizard’s robe.

“I figured it out. Eventually.”

Illyria squeezed her shoulder in support.

“Because you’re strong and powerful, little sorceress.”

Sheila shrugged, now feeling like she was fourteen again. Part of her longed for a hug to help wash away the stain of insecurity the room had wrenched from her. However, Micula’s words pulled her gaze from her feet and bolstered her more than anything else could have.

“It takes tremendous strength of character to face one’s darkest fears and to overcome them. Very few who trigger that spell make it out alive, Sheila. Well done.”

Sheila didn’t know what to say in response, but she was grateful for Micula’s reassurance. The two women stared at each other for a long moment. Sheila gave a small nod to her teacher.

Micula broke the moment as she began looking around again.

“We must find the stairwell in this room.” Micula stepped back and started inspecting all of the walls and contents of the room. She tried a couple of incantations, but with no result. “This is very strange. Those spells should have revealed whatever magicks are being used to hide the staircase.”

“I looked around, too, but I can’t figure it out,” Sheila admitted. “It’s definitely here, because I saw people entering this room, but not leaving.” As she backed up, to allow Illyria to inspect some of the nearby boxes, Sheila’s foot caught on something and she started to fall. Lianne’s reflexes were quick as she grabbed Sheila’s arm to stop her from landing on her backside.

After she’d regained her equilibrium, Sheila glanced down at where she’d tripped. Lianne peered down next to her. There was a small, clearly man-made circular indentation in the stone floor.

“Well that’s suspicious,” Sheila muttered.

Micula kneeled to inspect the apple-sized divot in the floor. She held a hand over the indentation and tried several more incantations. With each one, the crease in her brow deepened.

“What dark magicks hide themselves from even my most powerful revealing spells!” Micula whispered in frustration.

“What if it’s not magic at all?”

Lianne, who had been inspecting some of the items along the far wall, rejoined them. Looking excited for the first time since Sheila had arrived, Lianne carried one of the walking sticks she’d plucked from a pile of them in the corner.

At their expectant stares, Lianne slipped the bottom of the walking stick into the hole in the floor. It was a perfect fit! She gave it a twist.

Suddenly, the floor underneath their feet began to shift and separate as the stones slid into a downward spiral. Lianne remained standing on the solid top step while Sheila, Illyria, and Micula all fought to keep their balance on the moving stones. It was challenging due to the voluminous fabric of their wizard robes, but they managed to keep themselves from tumbling to the bottom.

After the stairs fully expanded, Illyria grinned.

“Brilliant, Lianne!”

The young woman flushed with pride and followed them down the steps until they all reached the bottom. Sheila gave Lianne a smile and tried to hold in her amusement at Micula’s grumblings. Apparently, magic wasn’t the solution for everything.

The foursome now stood in a dark and dank stone hallway sparsely lit by torches that sputtered in sconces bolted to the walls. The hallway tapered to darkness in both directions.

“Which way?” Sheila asked Micula.

“It is unclear. Our sources were based on information from servants. Since they are not permitted in this part of the castle, we have no guidance beyond this point.”

“Bummer,” Sheila grumbled, sighing.

“Bummer?” Illyria asked, her brow furrowed. Apparently that word had come out in English. Sheila huffed a half laugh.

“ _Bummer_ just means that’s disappointing news.”

“Very bummer!” Illyria agreed, and Sheila smirked.

“Illyria, you and Sheila go that way.” Micula pointed to the left. “And Lianne and I will go this way.” She pointed to the right. If you find anything of importance, send word back and we’ll join you. The four women nodded and head in their respective directions.

~*~

Sheila held her breath as she and Illyria crossed paths with several other wizards as they walked further down the straight hallway. Fortunately, they passed in silence, not bothering to look up or acknowledge each other.

Soon after, the corridor curved sharply and widened to an area that contained many archways. Sheila held in a groan.

“Now what?” she whispered. She quieted as Illyria held up a hand and cocked her head, listening for any sounds that might give them clues regarding what lay beyond. Most of the archways stood dark and silent. Two, however, showed flickers of light beyond, and Sheila could hear soft noises coming from both directions.

“You take that one…” Illyria pointed to the smaller of the two archways. “And I’ll take this one. Report back here in five minutes.”

Sheila nodded and pushed onwards, keeping her footfalls as light as possible. She traveled down a short hallway that terminated at a closed wooden door. It didn’t budge when she cautiously tried the handle. Could Kara and the others be locked on the other side? She crouched and peered through the keyhole. Of the little she could see in the dim light, it didn’t appear like a cell. She thought she caught a glimpse of books on shelves and someone shifting in a chair.

“Ah!” she cried out as someone grabbed her by the back of her hood, yanking on her braids and pulling her back to standing.

“Who are you?” A large man in a wizard’s robe, his bald head uncovered, gave her a shake. Sheila quickly regained her composure, remembering Micula’s advice.

“Unhand me at once,” she demanded in a low, dangerous tone.

“Oh, I don’t think so.” The man scowled and waved a hand over the door handle. With a click, the latch released and the door swung inward, revealing a library that looked so cozy, it seemed out of place here in the dank depths of the castle.

A young man, about Sheila’s age, stood with his back to the door, shuffling through a large book he’d just plucked from one of the shelves.

“Mage Hamon, I’ve been waiting for ages. Do you have the-“ He halted in his questioning as he turned and his gaze landed on Sheila. He raised one perfectly manicured eyebrow at the scene before him.

Sheila struggled underneath the mage’s grip, trying to keep her composure. The young man looked to be about her height, with a similar lean build. His almost-black hair fell to his high cheekbones, giving him a youthful roguish look. She had to admit that he was gorgeous.

“And what do we have here?” He snapped the book in his hand shut and re-shelved it absentmindedly as he stared at Sheila.

“Caught her spying through your keyhole, Sir.”

“Lost again, Mage Margaret?” The young man’s eyes twinkled as they met Sheila’s. She didn’t know what he was playing at, but she quickly decided to play along.

“My apologies, Sir,” Sheila tried to bow her head with deference, but winced as her hair was still held in Mage Hamon’s tight fist. “I would have been here sooner if this buffoon hadn’t stopped me at the door. As I said…” Sheila shot a glare at the now-confused mage. “Unhand me at once.”

“You heard the lady,” the handsome young man agreed. Instantly, Sheila was released. She rubbed the back of her head gingerly and took several steps away from the bald mage. Sure, she could have kicked his ass, but then her cover would definitely have been blown. The young man turned back to the mage. “Did you acquire what I requested?”

“Not yet, Sir. But, I believe that Mage Karissa may have it.”

The young man sighed, and waved his hand, dismissing Mage Hamon.

“Come back when you have it.”

“Yes, Sir.” With a final glare at Sheila, Mage Hamon swept out of the room, closing the door loudly behind him.

Sheila turned back to the young man, who seemed to be sizing her up with an amused expression.

“So, _Mage Margaret_ , what brings you to my dungeons?”

Sheila stood there, nonplussed, unsure of how to handle this situation. Her mind raced, and the only approach that seemed feasible was cautious honesty. At a minimum, she figured that sharing her real name couldn’t hurt. It wasn’t like anyone here would have ever heard of her before.

“My name’s Sheila,” she offered.

“Hmm… Sheila… I like it. It suits you much better than _Margaret_.” He smiled warmly. “I’m Ty.” He reached for her hand, as if to greet it with a kiss, but frowned as he noticed Sheila cradling it. “You’re hurt…”

Sheila glanced down, having forgotten about her earlier magical faux pas. As she caught sight of her blistered palm, the throbbing returned to her attention as well.

“It’s nothing.” She tried to let her hand drop nonchalantly to her side but hissed as it brushed against her robe.

“Nonsense.” He gently scooped up her hand, turned it palm-up, and held his hand above it. At first, all Sheila felt was his body heat, but then a tingling warmth spread over her palm. It stung a little at first, but the feeling quickly shifted into a soothing pulse. The skin slowly faded from a harsh angry red to a light pink, and then healed completely to the alabaster of her natural skin tone.

Sheila stared in awe. She’d seen Pelu work some healing magic, but nothing as powerful and instantaneous as this. Thankfully, Sheila’s shields held, keeping out any unwanted visions as he handled her bare hand with his own. In just moments, she was as good as new.

“That’s amazing,” Sheila breathed, flexing her fingers, now pain-free. “Thank you, Ty.”

“My pleasure.” He smiled and Sheila felt her stomach flutter at his charm. “So, Miss Sheila, I’m very curious to know what brings you to my door.”

Sheila debated internally regarding how to respond. On the one hand, she could lie and try to get back to her mission. Illyria was probably getting worried at this point. It had been much longer than five minutes. On the other hand, she couldn’t conceive how she’d successfully get away from Ty’s attention without telling him the truth. Ultimately, Sheila decided to trust her gut.

“My friends are being held captive here. I’m trying to help them.”

Ty’s eyes widened. This clearly wasn’t what he expected her to say. His coy flirting sobered, and he motioned for her to sit in one of the plush high-back chairs as he settled in the other.

“Who are your friends? Perhaps I can help.”

“My friend Kara is being held here, I believe. She’s slender with long brown hair, a few years older than me. And she was being accompanied by several male guards that work for King Laric. We’re also looking for King Laric as well.”

“We?” Ty asked.

“Yes, we,” Illyria’s voice rang from the doorway. She had her sword in hand, and her hood had slipped down, revealing her tangle of white-blonde braids.

“Queen Illyria,” Ty remained sitting, but bowed his head slightly.

“Prince Tylan,” Illyria replied coldly with an even slighter nod.

Sheila tried not to panic.

“Prince?”

“Yes, Sheila, meet Krondor’s son.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's so gratifying to finally have chapter 6 complete after so many moons. Sorry for the cliffy type ending on this one, but I promise that chapter 7 is well under way, and fully planned to be posted next week. I can't wait to write more about Tylan... ;-)   
> As always, any mistakes are all mine. If you notice anything glaring, let me know and I'll happily correct it.


	7. Détente

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sheila and the others continue in their search for their friends at Krondor's castle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning - there are references to blood and violence in this chapter. IMHO it's not a lot, but for those that are sensitive to that sort of thing, I felt a warning was in order. I've updated the archive warnings accordingly to serve for this and any future chapters that include such things.

“Why should I believe that you would willingly help us?” Illyria demanded as she towered over Tylan, who remained seated casually, giving no indication at all that he noticed Illyria’s sword inches from his throat.

Sheila’s heart thrummed in her chest as she watched the interaction. Tylan looked calm and collected. Nothing about his demeanor spoke of deception. Sheila knew that if she let her shields down that she might get a clearer picture of his motives, but she wasn’t sure that she wanted to risk becoming incapacitated while they were here in the castle.

“If I were in your position, I wouldn’t trust me either,” Tylan conceded and shrugged nonchalantly. “However, you clearly have the upper hand, and I can’t imagine you have much to lose by _taking me hostage…_ ”

Illyria’s eyes narrowed at his suggestion.

“We do not take hostages, unlike your people,” she growled.

Tylan rolled his eyes and looked to Sheila.

“Is she always this obtuse? Woah, woah, woah, wait!” he exclaimed as the point of Illyria’s sword pressed against the hollow in his throat.

Sheila stood quickly and rested a gentle hand on Illyria’s sword arm.

“I think what he’s suggesting, Illyria, is that we pretend to take him hostage if we encounter any resistance.”

“Exactly.” Tylan swallowed and let out a breath when Illyria pulled the sword back enough to allow him to speak without fear of being garroted. “Your King isn’t here at the castle, but your other friends are. I can lead you to them and help you leave Krondor City undetected. But in the unlikely chance that we are discovered, you can use me as leverage to escape.”

“Again, I ask you – why would you help us?” Illyria asked, her tone laced with suspicion.

“Because I have a condition.”

“What is it?” Sheila asked, hoping that it was something they were willing to agree to.

Tylan grinned and stood slowly so that Illyria wouldn’t impale him. He seemed to be savoring the moment as he picked up his nearby cloak.

“You have five seconds to answer before I slice you from navel to nose,” Illyria threatened. She was clearly getting impatient.

“It’s quite simple, really… I want you to take me with you.”

Illyria’s sword didn’t waver, but Sheila could see the surprise on the queen’s face.

“Why?” Sheila asked, also confused. At this question, however, Tylan’s grin slipped into a mild grimace.

After a moment, he looked away and simply said, “My reasons are my own. But I swear on my magic that I truly mean you no harm.” He stood tall, meeting both Illyria and Sheila’s gazes. Sheila could sense the sincerity in his statement, even with her shields up.

“Illyria…,” Sheila caught her leader’s attention. They shared a long, wordless look, and at Sheila’s slight nod, Illyria took a deep breath and lowered her sword.

“Alright, Prince Tylan, we agree to your terms.”

Tylan’s charismatic smile returned.

“Excellent!” He began packing a small satchel. “Your friends are being held nearby. We’ll retrieve them, and then I’ll show you how to leave without bringing my father’s army down upon our heads.” He slung the satchel over his shoulder and headed for the door. Illyria grabbed his upper arm in her iron grip, gaining his full attention.

“We will bring you with us, Prince Tylan, but I swear on all I hold dear that if you betray us, the flash of my sword will be the last thing you ever see. Magic or not, your death will be inescapable. Do I make myself clear?”

Sheila almost felt bad for the man. Almost.

“Abundantly.” Tylan said stiffly, pointedly looking down at Illyria’s hand until she released him. Once she did, he pulled the hood of his cloak over his head and walked out the door. “Follow me, five paces behind.”

~*~

“Are you sure about this?” Illyria asked Sheila softly as they followed, as requested, five paces behind Tylan around yet another bend in the stone labyrinth.

“No,” Sheila admitted. “But I didn’t sense any deception from him. I think it’s our best option at this point.” Illyria grunted her similar ambivalence.

They had passed several mages during their walk thus far. Each time, the oncoming mages had bowed their heads deferentially to the prince and continued on their ways without stopping. Now, two more mages approached. When they moved to pass by without acknowledging Tylan, he stiffened.

“Halt!” he ordered.

“You will allow us to pass,” a familiar compelling voice croaked out from under one of the hoods. That was the same voice that Micula had used to compel the guards earlier! 

“I don’t think so.” Instead of falling under Micula’s thrall, Tylan’s voice turned low and dangerous. “Show yourselves,” he commanded.

Sheila watched in horror as both Micula and Tylan started to gather balls of energy in their hands, readying for a fight.

“Wait!” Sheila yelled, pushing her hood back. “Micula, stand down. Tylan, these are our friends that are helping us search the castle.”

The blue electric sphere that Micula had conjured up disappeared back into her palm as she swept back her own hood. She stared cautiously at Tylan, and Sheila couldn’t blame her. He had so easily resisted her compulsion. He must have been very powerful indeed.

Tylan did not appear happy either, frowning back at Sheila.

“How many more _friends_ do you have wandering these halls?”

“It’s just the four of us. Why?”

“The more of you there are, the bigger the likelihood that we’ll be discovered.”

“We’ve been extremely cautious. To my knowledge, our presence remains unknown,” Micula stated. She looked at Illyria for guidance regarding this stranger. “My Queen?”

“Price Tylan is assisting us to free Kara and the others. Laric is not here. In return, the prince shall be joining us when we leave.”

Micula’s face remained impassive. She merely nodded in acknowledgement of the information and turned back to Tylan.

“We’ve already checked all of the chambers on this side and found nothing.”

“There’s a hidden doorway nearby. Follow me, quickly. We will not remain undiscovered for long.”

Tylan led them through several more turns until he pivoted toward a solid stone wall. He pulled a long chain out from around his neck and grasped the pendant that dangled from it. It looked like the shaft of a skeleton key without the metal teeth on the far end. He slid the smooth metal shaft into a nearly invisible hole in the grout on the wall and the wall swung inward.

“For a castle full of mages, you guys seem to hide all of your secret places old school…” Sheila said as she followed the man into a dim, narrower hallway.

“Old school?” His brows pulled together as he turned to her.

“I just meant that your secret passageways are all hidden by manually triggered mechanisms, not magic.”

At that, his expression lightened, and he nodded as he ushered them down the hall.

“That is because this castle was not built by mages. It was built nearly two thousand years ago by the once-great King Hatsiak. He ruled a vast area, including what is now called Campora. Amazingly, he and his people had no magic at all. The castle has changed hands many times in the years since he died, and while every new king has made some additions, the original architecture, especially down in this area of the castle, remains unchanged.”

Sheila was fascinated by the impromptu history lesson. Tylan seemed to relish the opportunity to share his knowledge, becoming almost boy-like in his enthusiasm. He reminded her of Dr. Reit when he got excited about a new breakthrough. She wondered what changes Krondor had made to this massive fortress. Then memories of the room where she had faced _Darian_ earlier bombarded her, and she shivered in the cool corridor.

Soon, heavy wood doors reinforced with iron appeared on both sides of the hallway every ten feet or so. Sheila peeked through the small eye-level barred openings in them as they passed and could see prisoners huddled on dirty straw-covered stone floors. She felt a twinge of guilt, knowing that they would not be able to free anyone but their friends. Tyron stopped short at one of the doors and peered inside.

“I don’t understand…” he mumbled.

Sheila hurried over and glanced inside to see an empty room.

“What?”

“Your friend… Kara?... she was in this cell this morning.”

“What sorts of trickery is this?” Illyria growled, swiftly bringing her sword out from under her robe. Lianne whimpered in dismay as she looked inside the empty cell, seeing what Sheila suspected was blood smeared on the dirty straw.

Tylan held his hands up in defense.

“No tricks. She was here, I swear it.”

“All these doors look very similar, is it possible that you have the wrong one?” Sheila asked, hope tinging her voice.

“No, I’m positive.”

Sheila could see the dismayed sincerity in Tylan’s eyes. Also, his answer did not serve him in any way. He could have hedged to put off Illyria’s ire, but he didn’t.

“Illyria?” a male voice whispered from a nearby cell.

Still aiming her sword in Tylan’s direction, Illyria side-stepped until she approached the door where the whisper came from and glanced inside.

“Atmar!” Illyria called out to the large soldier.

“Thank the Goddess!” Atmar’s red-bearded face filled the small barred square in the door.

“I’m very relieved to see you, my friend,” Illyria touched the fingers of her free hand briefly to his cheek. “Please, report what you know of the others.”

“Yes, my Queen.” He moved his head slightly to allow her to see into the cell. “The other men are in here with me.” He gestured to the three other soldiers that had sprung to their feet as they realized their liberation was close at hand. They appeared bruised, but not significantly hurt. “We have not seen Laric at all since being brought here, although we’ve heard rumors that he’s being taken to Perian.”

“But that doesn’t make any sense…” Lianne’s brows furrowed. “Laric’s enemies can’t–“

“Lianne,” Illyria cut the woman off with a tone of warning and a glance at Tylan. “We’ll discuss that later.” Lianne flushed and nodded. “Atmar, what of Kara?”

“She was here not long ago. One of the mages came and took her ‘for her wounds to be treated.’ Although, to be frank, he did not sound sincere, my Queen.”

“She’s injured?” Lianne asked in a small voice.

“I believe so. She kept reassuring us that she was fine, but I could tell that she was getting weaker each day we’ve spent here.”

“Prince Tylan, please release these men,” Illyria requested. She kept her tone even, but Sheila could tell that it cost her. She was clearly simmering internally.

Instead of retrieving keys, Tylan placed his palm over the lock and whispered words in a language she didn’t understand. The metal clicked softly, and the door swung open. As the men joined them in the crowded hallway, Tylan approached Atmar.

“Did you note anything about the mage that took your friend? His name? What he looked like? Even the timber of his voice, or anything he said that might help us find her?”

“He had a deep voice, but he was cloaked, so I did not get a glimpse of him. But I did hear one thing… when she tried to resist him, he told her not to worry, that she’d be back in her hole soon enough.”

Sound at the other end of the hallway startled the group.

“Quick, all of you, back into the cell!” Tylan whispered.

Everyone looked to Illyria for guidance.

“You think we’ll foolishly allow you to lock us all up?” she growled.

“I won’t lock it. Look, I know you have little reason to trust me, but if we are all discovered here in this hallway, there’s no way we’re getting out of this castle without a major battle on our hands.”

Sheila felt conflicted. Something about Tylan inspired her trust, but she couldn’t blame the others for doubting his motives. He turned, frantic as footfalls echoed closer.

“Please, I’ll keep Sheila out here with me.”

Sheila blinked in surprise, but then realized that what he said made sense. He’d already established her as a Mage to at least one of the others.

Reluctantly, Illyria nodded and ushered the others into the small cell. Just before he shut the door, she whispered, “Betray us and you won’t make it out of this hallway alive.”

“Is she always this much fun?” Tylan raised an eyebrow at Sheila.

“Can’t say that I blame her.” Sheila leaned in and whispered in the young man’s ear, “And just to be clear, if you do betray us, Illyria will look like a cuddly kitten compared to what I’ll do to you.” She flashed a dangerous look at him, but rather than fear, she thought she saw a flash of intrigue in return.

As the footfalls quickly approached, Tylan took a casual leaning stance against the door their friends had just walked through. He raised his voice so as to be overheard.

“And in here, Mage Margaret, are the rogues we captured last week. More of the false king Laric’s soldiers trying to spy on our operations. I believe we’ll be executing them once my father returns.”

“Along with this one, my prince,” a woman’s voice carried to them. She bowed her head briefly while pushing the chained prisoner roughly down onto the floor. Sheila winced inwardly at the sound of Kara’s knees hitting the stone. The archer groaned and clutched at a dark wet spot on the side of her tunic just above her left hip. She looked tired, filthy, and slightly dazed. As her hand shifted, Sheila could see a large tear in the fabric and an angry seeping wound underneath. The urge to pull the woman immediately to safety was almost overpowering, but Sheila managed to keep still.

“Ah, Mage Karissa. Lovely to see you. Mage Hamon was looking for you earlier.”

“I shall seek him after I lock this one back in her cell.” Mage Karissa pulled on Kara’s long knotted hair, forcing her to look up. Her eyes widened when she caught a glimpse of Sheila’s face, and Sheila prayed that Karissa didn’t notice. “She still refuses to provide us any valuable information regarding the bitch queen and her band of misfits. Perhaps you could assist with interrogating her one last time before we bring her to the gallows, Sir.”

“Of course,” he agreed congenially. “I am rather busy at the moment, giving a tour to Mage Margaret here, but I believe my morning tomorrow is available.”

“Mage Margaret?” Mage Karissa finally took note of Sheila. She didn’t seem impressed. In fact, she looked irritated, glaring at Sheila much in the way that Dian once had, her expression huffy and laced with jealousy.

“Yes, newly arrived from one of father’s allies across the sea.”

“Sent away from home for any particular reason?” Mage Karissa smirked with malice.

Sheila wasn’t sure how to reply, taken aback by this woman’s antagonism. She needn’t have worried, as Tylan came to her rescue.

“Mage Karissa!” he barked, suddenly serious, with a dangerous glint in his eyes. “You will apologize to our guest, hand the prisoner over to me, and be on your way. Do I make myself clear?”

The blood drained from Mage Karissa’s face, and she bowed deeply.

“Of course, my prince. My apologies, Mage Margaret.”

Sheila didn’t think that she looked sorry, just horrified at having upset Price Tylan. Clearly the man didn’t get riled often, and it had shaken her. With trembling hands, Mage Karissa handed over the ends of Kara’s chains, then turned and briskly fled the hallway.

Kara’s eyes cut to Sheila, then over to Tylan. She remained silent, clearly uncertain of what was happening. Then her eyes widened even further as Tylan waved a hand over her shackles, releasing her from their iron grip. The moment Mage Karissa turned the bend at the end of the hall, Sheila crouched down and put her arms around her old friend. 

“Kara! I’m so glad you’re okay!” she whispered. 

“What are you doing here, Shei- uh, Mage Margaret,” she stumbled on her words, looking again with alarm at Tylan.

“It’s okay, he’s helping us. He knows who I am.”

“Us?”

In answer to her question, Tylan swung open the cell door, revealing the Unicorn Queen and the others.

“Kara!” Lianne called out, rushing over and joining Sheila and Kara on the floor, hugging her sister tightly until Kara’s gasp caused her to pull away. “You’re hurt!” Lianne gingerly touched the wet cloth above Kara’s hip, and Kara hissed again at the contact.

“Caught the edge of a cutting curse. The damn thing refuses to heal.” She winced as the other women helped her to her feet.

“Please, allow me...” Tylan stepped closer and held up his palm to her side. Kara tensed, but at Illyria’s nod, allowed the man to work his magic. In less than a minute, Kara’s shoulders dropped as the pain vanished and the skin knit together as if the wound had never been there.

“That’s incredible!” Kara whispered, looking down through the rip in her tunic, then pressing her hand against her healed flank.

Tylan turned to Sheila and gripped one of her elbows.

“We must go, quickly. With so many of us, the odds of being discovered are very high, and the longer we wait, the bigger the chance that we’ll be spending the rest of our very short lives in these dungeons.”

“Understood.” Sheila snapped her fingers several times to get the attention of the soldiers and her fellow warriors. As they all quickly fell silent, Sheila met Tylan’s intense stare. “How should we work this?”

“Let’s make this look like we’re officially moving the prisoners in case we come across anyone. We’ll loosely manacle the men and Kara and put them in formation between your four _mages_. Two up front, and two taking up the rear. I’ll lead the way.”

Everyone in the group nodded. Tylan retrieved the manacles from a nearby room, and soon the group was walking quickly deeper into the dungeon.

The first several mages that they passed acknowledged Prince Tylan but did not stop to inquire about the prisoner movement. However, their luck did not hold. Sheila spotted the reflection off the man’s shiny scalp up ahead and clenched her teeth as he approached.

“My Prince.” Mage Hamon bowed his head deferentially.

“Mage Hamon,” Tylan replied in return.

“What are you doing with the prisoners?” The mage’s eyes narrowed as they caught sight of Sheila.

“Taking them for interrogation.”

Sheila commended Tylan for his attempt at sounding casual. In fact, he sounded bored, as if this was a daily occurrence. However, Mage Hamon stiffened with suspicion.

“Sir, with all due respect, as the head of your security, I should be well aware of any prisoner movements and interrogations.”

“That you should,” Tylan said, starting to sound testy. “Perhaps you should check with Mage Karissa, as I just discussed this with her.”

“I don’t understand, Sir…” Mage Hamon cocked his head at the other _mages_ standing around the prisoners. “You should be under increased protection if you are to be around infidels such as these. Which guards do you have with you?”

Tylan sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“You aren’t going to let this go, are you?”

“Sir…” Seeming to sense danger, Mage Hamon took a step back, and Sheila watched in dismay as his hands began to glow with green light. Quickly, she grounded and cast a protection spell to surround her, the warriors, and Laric’s soldiers. The burning fire of magic coursed through her veins as she felt the protective barrier form just in time to repel two balls of green lightening that were aimed with precision at Sheila and Micula. If she hadn’t had been so quick to react, she wondered if they’d both be dead. Then again, Micula had to be expecting the attack as well.

Micula reacted quickly, sending a pulse of blue energy towards the mage. However, his power was a force to be reckoned with, and he easily repelled Micula’s attack, sending her energy ball careening into the wall with a mighty crash, pelting stones against Sheila’s barrier. With each pulse Mage Hamon sent toward the group, Sheila felt her protection shield drain more and more energy from her. Her heart pounded and sweat poured down her face and arms as if she were running a marathon. She prayed that this battle would be decided quickly, because she knew she couldn’t hold the barrier for much longer.

Laric’s men and the warriors tried their best to help, but their efforts were laughable when compared to this mage’s magic. They beat against his shields with their fists and the few weapons the women had carried into the castle. Sheila knew that the only true players at this point were Mage Hamon, Micula, and Tylan.

At first Tylan had let Micula face Mage Hamon one-on-one, but as her efforts proved inadequate, Tylan finally stepped in. With an unhappy grimace, he turned to the mage and whispered a short incantation. Mage Hamon’s protection shield dropped. Tylan uttered another foreign word and slashed his hand across the air in a harsh, horizontal line. Mage Hamon gasped and clutched at his throat, blood pumping out from between his fingers. His eyes flickered to Prince Tylan, confused and betrayed, and then closed as he fell to the ground, a puddle of blood spreading around him.

Tylan stared at the dead man for a long moment, looking sad and guilt-ridden. At the sound of several fast-approaching footsteps, Illyria grabbed the man’s arm and pulled him back to the pressing situation.

“There’s no time to hide this. How close is the exit?”

“Not close enough.” He raised both hands and sent a blast toward the ceiling in the direction of the approaching noises. Stone rained down, rubble filling the hallway. “That should hold them off,” he said, half choking on the dust. The group quickly followed as he led them down the clear end of the hallway.

~*~

“Are you okay?” Sheila asked Tylan as they walked side-by-side by the light of the waning moon. He’d been silent ever since he’d led them out of the castle through a secret tunnel that eventually led to the nearby countryside. He remained silent, trudging through the waist-high grain in the field.

She decided not to take his silence personally and continued walking by his side, letting her hands brush over the tops of the wheat, allowing the stalks to tickle her palms. The others traveled silently up ahead, leading the way back to camp and trusting Sheila to keep an eye on their enigmatic travel companion.

After they left the wheat field behind and crested yet another hill, Tylan shifted the small pouch that was slung over his shoulder and sighed heavily. He looked up at the constellations shining brightly above them and raised his arm to point at a particularly bright cluster.

“You see those five stars there, with the two others above and one below.”

Sheila tilted her head back and saw the group of stars to which he referred. She’d never learned the constellations here in Arren, which differed vastly from the ones back home. No big dipper graced this realm.

“Yes, I see them.”

“That is Jakara, the Dragon Spirit. I was born under the sign Jakara, which the elders proclaimed a good omen that I would be a fierce yet righteous leader.” Sheila remained silent at his troubled expression. Her quiet acceptance seemed to encourage him to continue. “There’s nothing righteous about what my father is doing. Not that he ever valued such a quality,” Tylan’s voice dropped, and Sheila had to strain to hear him. “I’ve never met with his approval on anything, but luckily I’ve always had strong enough magic to prevent him from disregarding me completely. But now…”

“Now what, Ty…?” Sheila prodded gently.

“Now that I’ve killed one of his most trusted mages, there will be no place I can hide from his wrath. He will find me, and he will end me once and for all.”

“But surely as your father he’d have some mercy…” Sheila tried to console the young man, but stopped as he sent her a look of desolation. She decided to shift her approach. “Well, we’ll just have to make sure we end him before he ends you,” she said fiercely. At his look of anguish, Sheila wished she could take her words back.

“Sheila, he’s still my father.”

She walked with him in silence for a long stretch, trying to put herself in his shoes. If her dad was doing the same things, she knew she would condemn the acts, but she wasn’t sure that she’d be able to wish him dead. It felt heartless and wrong.

“You’re right, I’m sorry.” She squeezed a hand lightly over his arm before gently lifting it away. “Although, it’s quite possible that he won’t even know that it was you who… uh, did it.”

Tylan shook his head and sighed again.

“There are spells…”

“Oh…” Sheila felt like nothing she said was helping. No, scratch that. She _knew_ nothing she was saying was helping. “Well,” she took a deep breath, “if we’re doomed, we might as well enjoy the time we have left. I wonder if there’s a pub in this neighborhood.” She looked around at the nearby farmland and frowned. “Maybe not.”

Tylan looked at her with a small smirk, then pulled a flask-sized glass bottle from his pouch, uncorked it, and tilted it toward Sheila.

“Ladies first,” he insisted.

“Pardon me… your _lordship_ ,” Sheila paused as Tylan snorted, then resumed, “but that bottle could contain poison for all I know. No offense, of course…”

“Oh, of course,” he nodded with a twinkle in his eye. “Allow me to alleviate your concerns, my dear.” He swallowed several gulps of the amber liquid.

After warily watching and observing that he didn’t keel over, Sheila accepted the bottle and tilted it back. The liquor scorched her throat while the fumes raced up the back of her nasal passages, causing her to grimace.

Amused, Tylan retrieved the bottle and took another swig.

“What’s it called?” Sheila asked, taking a fortifying breath and holding her hand out for him to pass the bottle back. Whatever it was, it was clearly from this land and not anything that she recognized from Earth. It tasted similar to whisky, but with a nuttier, smoother flavor that culminated in a surprisingly mellow aftertaste.

“Purah. You’ve never had it before?” he sounded surprised.

“No, I grew up… someplace far away.” She looked up again at the strange star formations and was glad to feel the liquor already starting to work its numbing magic.

“Perian?” he guessed.

Sheila gave a short laugh.

“No, that would have made my life a lot easier.”

“In what way?” He took the bottle back, sounding genuinely interested.

“It’s a really long story,” she hedged.

“From what your queen said, we still have hours to travel before we reach camp…” Tylan raised his brows beseechingly, and Sheila felt her resistance waver. What harm could sharing her story do, really, she thought.

She waved for him to pass the bottle and took a fortifying swallow. As soon as she was confident that she could speak without croaking, she started her tale.

“Well, you see, I’m not from this world…”

~*~

“And she pushed you, just like that!” Tylan said, shaking his head. “That is reprehensible.” His shoulder bumped Sheila’s, both of them not quite steady after hours of walking and sipping from his magic bottle. Apparently, it was enchanted to never run dry, which Sheila realized could be quite perilous if one wasn’t paying attention to how much they were drinking.

“Yeah,” she sighed and shrugged. “I guess she thought she was helping.”

Tylan rolled his eyes.

“Very helpful, sending you to a place that has a war on.”

“Right? Seriously.” Sheila frowned and continued. “It’s weird being back. In some ways it’s great, and in others…”

“No so great,” Tylan guessed.

“Mm-hmm,” Sheila agreed, tempted to ask him for the bottle again, but knowing that Myno would have her hide if she returned to the camp falling-down drunk. As it was, she was feeling quite buzzed. If she was back home, she’d take a cab instead of driving. “What about you, Ty,” she asked boldly.

“What about me?” He smirked. “I’m a highly complex individual, so you’re going to have to be more specific, Mage Margaret. Oh, that’s a mouthful. I’m going to call you… Mags!” he said triumphantly, as if this new nickname was brilliant.

“What?” Sheila laughed and gave him a playful shove. “That’s a terrible nickname.”

Tylan shrugged, still grinning.

“I like it.”

“Okay, fine. Whatever,” she huffed, amused and still curious. “More specific, huh? Hrm… how old are you?”

“Trying to soften me up with an easy one?” He chuckled. “I, my dear, am 25 sols.”

“Twenty-five… hrm. I don’t know all the rules in this world, but isn’t twenty-five a bit old in this realm to be a prince and not be married?”

“Oh, well, perhaps if I’d met someone as charming as you prior to now, I would be properly wedded,” he flirted, and Sheila ducked her head to avoid him seeing the blush that rose on her cheeks.

“I bet you say that to all the girls,” she muttered snarkily.

“Oh, no, Mags,” he dropped his tone to a naughty timber. “I’ll have you know that I am very selective about who I chose to flirt with. Granted, that could be a woman or a man,” he said casually. “But very few make the cut.” His grin widened at her shocked expression. “Oh, you heard me correctly, my dear. So, consider yourself honored.” He winked.

Sheila couldn’t hold in her laugh any longer.

“Well, thank God you’re not insecure. No need to worry about false humility with you!”

Tylan waved his hand dismissively at her.

“Judge me if you like, Mags. But I’ll have you know that I’m an excellent lover. Unfortunately, my lack of discrimination regarding the gender of my partners is another reason my father will be happy to see me on his gallows.”

“Not a big supporter of your… less than conventional choices?” Sheila tilted her head and looked hard into his eyes to see if she could spy the true emotion behind his brazen exterior. She thought she caught a flicker of pain, but it passed so quickly that it could have been a trick of the moonlight. He shrugged and picked up his pace as they trudged through yet another wheat field.

“Hard to have an heir when both partners don’t have the necessary bits.”

“True. Although, you’re a self-confessed ‘equal opportunity’ player, so why have no women ever made the cut?” Sheila raised an eyebrow. As she caught his profile, he suddenly seemed tense and sad. Yet, again he blinked, and in the next moment he smirked again and stumbled into Sheila.

“Oh, you know how it is, so many oats to sew,” he joked as he plucked a stalk from the field and raised it to tickle Sheila’s neck. She squealed and started running away from the instrument of torture. Tylan laughed and gave chase.

As they crested the next hill, Tylan hot on Sheila’s heels, Sheila stopped short, causing Tylan to slam into her from behind, and they both tumbled to the ground in a heap.

Sheila had stopped short because not only had they reached the outskirts of camp, but the others from their rescue mission as well as the others from the camp must have heard Sheila’s earlier squeal and thought something was amiss. As she’d crested the hill, she’d come face-to-face with several dozen warriors and guards running their way with their weapons drawn.

Now, as Sheila tried to determine which way was up, she shifted underneath Tylan, who had landed partially on top of her. He didn’t remain there for long, though.

“Get off of her!”

She recognized Darian’s voice immediately. Tylan grunted as Darian grabbed him, picked him up, and slammed him back down on the ground several feet away. Sheila scrambled over to where Darian was punching Tylan repeatedly.

“Stop! Darian!”

Darian didn’t seem to hear her, and his fists kept pummeling Tylan bloody.

“Stop! Dammit, Darian!”

When it was clear that nobody was going to intervene, Sheila swore to herself, and then kicked Darian’s legs out from under him. He landed hard on the ground between Sheila and Tylan. However, years of training kicked in and he immediately rolled to his feet. Sheila popped quickly to her feet as well, prepared to fight him if necessary.

She could tell the moment Darian realized it was Sheila that was standing across from him and Sheila who had knocked him down moments before. His step faltered and his sweaty temple creased.

“Sheila? What’s going on?”

“He wasn’t hurting me. You were punching Tylan for no good reason!”

“We heard you scream!”

There was no way that she was going to admit in front of Darian and all these people that her scream was from Tylan trying to tickle her. She knew how bad that would sound.

“It wasn’t what it sounded like. I swear to you, I’m fine. Ty didn’t hurt me.”

“Yeah, what Mags said.” Tylan unsteadily pushed himself to his feet as he pressed one of his shirtsleeves up to his bloody nose. His left eye looked like it was already on its way to having an impressive shiner. 

“Who the hell is Mags?” Darian demanded.

“He’s talking about me,” Sheila admitted, willing her face not to flush. At Darian’s incredulous look, she rushed on, “It’s just a stupid nickname. Long story.”

“Can’t wait to hear it,” he said in a clipped tone.

“Oh, is this a lover’s quarrel?” Tylan sounded both delighted and mischievous. “Please don’t let me interrupt. Although, I must say, Mags…” Tylan gave Darian a hard once over. “You have excellent taste.” He winked, then headed toward the camp, amidst the bewildered stares of everyone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Selynne for some helpful Beta feedback! This chapter was a lot of fun to write. Tylan is rapidly becoming one of my favorite characters. 
> 
> One other fair warning, this fic may end up having more types of pairings in it than strictly M/F. If that's not your thing, best to foreshadow that now. I'm updating the official AO3 archive warnings for that to say generically "multiple" until I totally settle on what I'll end up including.


	8. A Matter of Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The warriors react to Prince Tylan's presence in their camp.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure how this chapter became the longest one so far. LOL. Happy reading!

“Pelu, please follow Tylan and bring him to the medical tent to treat his injuries.”

“Of course.” Pelu sheathed the knife she had drawn during the earlier confusion, but Illyria paused the gentle woman as she turned to leave.

“And keep him there until I send someone to retrieve him,” she said in a tone laced with emphasis. It was obvious to Sheila that Illyria wanted a chance to speak with her people without Tylan present. Apparently, Pelu picked up on her subtext as well.

Pelu nodded, and after a silent look to Jahnus, he moved to join her. Sheila’s heart warmed at the instant support he provided the healer without even being asked. As they slipped silently into the night, following the fading image of Tylan’s retreating figure, Illyria turned to the other warriors and guards. Before she had an opportunity to speak, however, Darian interjected.

“Who the hell is that?”

“Prince Tylan, Krondor’s son,” Illyria said grimly, peering into the dark where he had disappeared. At Darian’s outraged expression, she stepped back and barked at her warriors. “Meeting in the main tent in five minutes.” Then she addressed Cam. “Please join us as well.” At his nod, the Unicorn Queen pivoted and stalked off towards the camp.

~*~

Once almost everyone had gathered inside the tent, which Sheila noticed was strategically located on the opposite side of the camp from the healing tent, the group of warriors didn’t fall into a hush as they usually did when Illyria called a meeting. A general sense of unrest and unease seemed to stir within each of the gatherers while they waited for their leader.

“What were you thinking, bringing someone like him back here?” Nanine turned on Sheila as soon as she entered the tent. Sheila stiffened at the unexpected attack. She looked over at Lianne for support. Sheila’s respect for her slipped several notches when the woman refused to meet her eye, leaving her to face the onslaught alone.

“First of all, Nanine, it wasn’t my decision. Why don’t you try taking that accusatory tone and pointing towards your Queen and see how far that gets you.” Sheila was building up a head of steam. “And secondly… I would have thought that of anyone here, you would be able to empathize with someone of royal blood that wants to escape a life living amongst people who don’t treat them well.” Nanine’s affronted expression gave her a small measure of satisfaction. Sure, it was a bit of a low blow, but it was true. And while Sheila still had her reservations about Tylan, she knew that he at least deserved the benefit of the doubt unless or until he proved he deserved otherwise.

“We should kill him now before he brings the whole Krondorian army down upon our heads!” Myno piped in, as if she hadn’t heard a word Sheila had said. Memories flooded Sheila of her first moments meeting these women, remembering their murmurs of _death to spies_ followed quickly by their accusations of her being a witch and their cries to kill her before she could work her _evil magic_.

“What is wrong with you people!” Sheila shouted. A hush fell over the group and she felt all eyes on her. “Resorting to prejudice and violence makes you as bad as Krondor. No, worse! Because the unicorns trust you to represent all that is good, but you betray that by jumping to a death sentence for someone you know NOTHING about!”

“We know enough,” Myno huffed stubbornly.

“Oh, like you did when you met me and wanted to make me your slave?” Sheila raised an eyebrow at the tall broad woman. Myno didn’t flush at the accusation, but through her mental shields, Sheila thought she caught a whiff of shame from her.

“That was a long time ago,” Myno said as if she was now a changed woman.

“And yet here you are, recommending death for a man you’ve never even had a conversation with.”

“So what made you his chief defender?” Darian stepped forward, his arms crossed over his broad chest. “Because the two of you seem awfully chummy for two people who just met.”

Sheila refused to feel guilt over her defense of Tylan. She looked at Kara and Lianne, who both stood to the side, mute.

“I’m wondering that myself,” she said, intentionally ignoring the jealous spirit behind his question. “Kara? He healed that terrible wound that you yourself admitted wouldn’t heal on its own. And Lianne, you saw how he killed one of his father’s men, defending us so that we could escape. Tell them!”

Kara grimaced and stepped forward.

“It’s true that he healed me. But Sheila, we don’t know yet if he did that to get in our good graces. Same with the man he killed. For all we know, it could be an elaborate scheme to get us to trust him, when all along he could be working for his father’s agenda.”

Sheila had to admit that she had also considered that possibility. Before she could voice her thoughts, Illyria and Micula swept into the tent.

“That’s a reasonable concern, Kara, and one that I’m taking very seriously. But Sheila is also correct that he has done nothing yet to cause us to turn against him. There’s also the matter that I’ve given him my word that he may ride with us, in exchange for him helping us to free you. He held up his end of the agreement. I will not go back on my word.”

“But we cannot allow him to roam free!” Myno growled. “He could endanger the unicorns or any one of us.” She looked at Illyria and added dourly, “Including Serena.”

Sheila saw Illyria’s jaw clench at the reminder of the jeopardy her daughter was in.

“I am well aware of the danger he poses, which is why I’ve asked Cam to join us.”

Cam stepped forward and bowed his head slightly.

“Yes, my Queen?”

“Do we have enough men to spare to set up a rotation to shadow Tylan while travels with us? I don’t want that man out of our sight for one moment until we’re certain that he’s on our side.”

“Yes, ma’am. I will set that up right away.”

“Excellent. Make sure Darian is assigned the first watch,” she added with a glare at her brother. Cam nodded and addressed Darian before leaving the tent.

“When this meeting is over, relieve Gebart in the healing tent.”

Darian looked like he wanted to argue, but at Cam’s placid stare, he nodded stiffly. The moment Cam was out of earshot, however, Darian whirled on his sister.

“What is that all about? Trying to teach me a lesson?”

“Good question, brother. What do you think?” She sounded disappointed and frustrated. Sheila could relate. She wasn’t looking forward to the argument she knew was imminent between her and Darian. She could see his jaw flex in a similar fashion to his sister’s.

“I think–” He paused, and while it looked like he wanted to hurl more angry words, he must have thought better of it. “I think that I better get to my post,” he said, bitterness tinging his voice. Without waiting for Illyria’s reply, he stalked out of the tent.

Sheila sighed and tried to calm herself. She didn’t want to fight with her fellow warriors. Illyria turned to her and addressed the elephant in the room.

“You seem to have formed a quick… bond with Prince Tylan…”

Sheila shrugged and grimaced.

“We just… clicked, I guess.” At Illyria’s confused look, she realized that the idiom didn’t translate. “I mean that we seem to understand each other, and conversation flows smoothly.”

“He’s very charming, but you cannot let your guard down around him.”

“I’m not.” Sheila bristled at the insinuation.

“You don’t think drinking copious amounts of alcohol together lowers your guard?” Illyria raised an eyebrow.

 _Shit_. Sheila hadn’t realized that Illyria new about that. Of course, she felt sober as a judge now, and mortified at being called out in front of the others. The best course of action here seemed to be diversion.

“Actually, lowering my guard is exactly what I need to do,” Sheila said gravely, straightening her spine and looking over to Micula.

“Are you ready to use your gift?” Micula asked in her deep throaty voice.

The idea terrified Sheila, but she knew she must. If there was any chance to glean Tylan’s agenda by allowing her visions through, she knew she had to try.

“Yeah. I think so. I considered doing it back in the castle, but–”

“You were wise to hold off. You have yet to master the process.”

 _Thanks for the reminder,_ Sheila thought.

“Master or not, it seems worth the risk,” Illyria agreed.

“I can’t guarantee that whatever I see will be helpful.” Sheila knew from experience that these visions might bring them more questions than answers. She remembered the time she had tried to read for one woman who was asking about whether her boyfriend was going to propose to her. The vision Sheila had was perplexing in the extreme. To this day, Sheila still didn’t understand why touching that woman had caused a vision of seven loons flying in a V formation over a small island.

“There are no guarantees in life,” Myno offered. “Just do your best.” Sheila almost felt her earlier annoyance with Myno melt, until the woman added, “Just remember that our lives may depend on it.”

“Yeah, no pressure,” Sheila muttered.

“Gift?” Kara asked, looking confused.

Sheila didn’t have the energy or the time to bring the woman up to speed.

“Lianne, please fill her in while I go see if I can avoid passing out and waking up with a migraine.” Without an further discussion, Sheila ducked out and headed for the healing tent.

~*~

As Sheila entered the area where Tylan was being treated, she saw Darian standing by the door, scowling, with his hand on the hilt of his sword, ready for trouble. However, the incongruous scene beyond was filled with jovial banter.

“I’m sure she’s just very ticklish,” Pelu chuckled. “That’s not so unusual.”

“You would have thought it was a snake, not a stalk of wheat,” Tylan wiped his one good eye, which watered with mirth.

Sheila wanted to dig a hole and crawl into it. Having little choice, however, she put on her bravest game face and entered the partition of the tent.

“He can’t be too badly hurt if you’ve got him laughing, Pelu.” She pasted on a smile. Tylan seemed to see right through her façade.

“Oh, don’t be embarrassed, Mags. We all have our weak spots.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Sheila caught Darian clenching his jaw again at the mention of her nickname.

“And what’s yours?” she challenged with a raised brow.

“Well, right now I would say it’s my left eye,” he volleyed, lightly fingering the puffy skin around his eye that had turned into a veritable rainbow of colors. The lid was so swollen that you could barely see his pupil peeking out. Despite its injury, it still looked full of mischief as it flickered over to Darian.

Jahnus walked over carrying a leaf covered in a pasty brown substance.

“I’ve used magic to set your broken nose, but we’ll have to use this poultice to bring down the swelling,” he said as he pressed it lightly onto the eye socket. “Hold this gently to your eye until it dries.”

“Why can’t you use your own magic to heal yourself?” Sheila asked Tylan.

“Surely you know the fundamentals of healing magic, Mags.”

Sheila frowned and shook her head.

“Land of Science, remember?”

“Right!” He said, and then shifted into what Sheila now recognized as his “scholar/teacher mode,” similar to earlier when describing the history of the castle’s architecture. “Well, in this case there are two fundamental issues at play. The most basic law of healing is that one can only heal others, never themselves. I assume it’s something in the nature of light magic that requires selflessness.”

“And the second?”

“The second fundamental principle is a little less clear-cut but would still cause some issues. You see, when healing your hand, as I did earlier, and Kara’s side, those were both magical maladies, I assume, since they healed so quickly.” Sheila nodded, and he continued. “Those are much easier to heal with magic. The process is less _healing_ and more _undoing the magic that had previously been don_ e, like unweaving a braid or a length of rope. With non-magical injuries, one can try to use magic to encourage our natural biological processes to heal quicker, but it’s not nearly as instantaneous, and requires a lot more energy. The caster has to be extremely careful not to give too much of their own energy. In the end, using natural remedies from plants and other things found in nature, generally is the faster, safer route for healing.”

“Well said,” Jahnus agreed. “I remember one time, before I had my formal training back in Perian, I tried to heal a sick horse with my inherent magical abilities. I was probably only 6 or 7 years old at the time.”

“What happened?” Pelu looked to Jahnus with concern.

“I nearly died. If my father hadn’t come in when he did and stopped me, I probably wouldn’t be standing here talking to you.”

“Yes, healing magic is a tricky business,” Tylan agreed. “I give you both a lot of respect for learning all of the natural remedies required to help people and animals.”

Pelu and Jahnus smiled graciously.

“I couldn’t imagine doing anything else,” she said with sincerity.

“Same here,” Jahnus agreed, putting an arm around Pelu.

“Is there anything else you need to do for him?” Sheila asked, unsure of the extent of Tylan’s injuries. As a trained warrior, Darian could have killed him.

“We’ve wrapped his ribs, which we believe are bruised, not cracked. But the tea,” she gestured to a steaming mug sitting on the ground near Tylan’s cot, “when it cools, should help with healing them faster than normal. I don’t believe there’s any internal bleeding. Aside from his nose, it doesn’t seem like anything else is broken. He should be back to normal within the next couple of days. Although the bruising might take another week to subside.”

“Thank you for your help,” Tylan said with a slight bow of his head.

“You’re very welcome, Prince Tylan,” Pelu flushed. Sheila knew that it wasn’t very often that Pelu received appreciation for her work.

“Please, call me Ty or Tylan. Once my father hears about what I’ve done, I won’t be a prince for much longer anyway.” He tried to shrug and grimaced in discomfort.

Sheila had lowered the part of her shield that allowed emotions through, and she felt Tylan’s sincerity regarding the statement about his father. She sensed a low thrum of anxiety coming from him as he talked about having his title taken away, but she also felt a bud of excitement and adventure, similar to what Sheila had felt when she’d first landed in Arren and started riding with these warriors. But there was also something else, pushed down deep in the background of his feelings. She couldn’t quite grasp what it was, but it felt heavy, contrasting greatly with the lighthearted jovial veneer he presented. As she tried to focus on teasing out a greater understanding of what she was feeling, she was suddenly overwhelmed by a tidal wave of jealousy and hurt coming from Darian as he watched her watching Tylan. It was so overwhelming that Sheila had to raise her emotional shields in defense.

Pelu placed a hand on Sheila’s suddenly sweaty forehead.

“Are you alright, Sheila?”

Sheila simply nodded, not trusting her voice at that moment. The thought that she was causing that much anguish in Darian took her breath away. Even though she was still upset with him for his earlier overreaction, she knew that she had to do or say something to him to help ease this feeling.

As Pelu and Jahnus chatted companionably with Tylan, Sheila slowly eased her way toward where Darian was standing. She placed a gentle hand on one of his arms that were held rigid by his sides as he stood at attention. His eyes flickered to her, the crease between his brows deepening slightly. She knew that he couldn’t engage in personal conversation while he was on duty like this. In a way, that was a blessing in disguise, because she could quickly say her piece without interruption.

“I need something from you, Darian,” she said softly so that only he could hear her. At his blink of acknowledgement, she continued. “I need for you to trust me.” His arm tensed under her hand. “I have always acted in the best interest of you, Illyria, and the others. Think about that before you assume my loyalty would be so easily swayed. Or my feelings for you…,” she whispered with feeling, letting that statement hang.

Jahnus and Pelu approached the doorway to the partition. Apparently, a new patient had just walked in with a campfire burn, so Pelu and Jahnus moved to assist him on the other side of the tent. Sheila decided to leave Darian to mull over her words, and she moved to settle on a small stool next to Tylan’s cot, ready to get on with this vision business.

Tylan started to bend down to retrieve the tea but froze with a look of agony on his face and quickly straightened.

“Damn, my ribs are not happy right now.”

“Let me get it.” Sheila easily bent over and retrieved the still-steaming cup.

“Thanks, Mags,” he said earnestly, accepting the drink.

As their fingers brushed, Sheila braced herself and lowered her shield. A younger version of Tylan, probably about eighteen or so, filled her mind.

_“Emmeran, wait!” Tylan cried out, grasping for the fabric of the other man’s tunic. His fingers found a handful and clenched the course brown muslin so tightly that it started to rip as the other man continue to pull away. “Please!”_

_With reluctance, the tall broad man turned around and looked down at Tylan._

_“Why?” he asked, his voice breaking on that one syllable. “You know he’s never going to let us be together.”_

_“He won’t live forever. Someday I’ll be King, and I’ll set my own rules.”_

_“We could be old men before that ever happens. If that ever happens.”_

_“With the way he’s planning to wage war with dangerous adversaries, he’ll likely be killed before the year is out,” Tylan argued. He pulled Emmeran closer until they were mere inches from each other. “I love you, Emm. He’s not going to come between us. I will fight him on this with my last breath.” With that, Tylan placed a gentle kiss on the other man’s lips._

_Emmeran dropped his forehead to rest on Tylan’s._

_“You’re making this very difficult,” he murmured._

_“As my father is fond of saying, ‘difficult’ is my middle name.” Tylan smirked._

_“We can’t keep sneaking around like this, though. He already suspects something. Last night he called me away from the stables to discuss the importance of good breeding practices with the horses. He went on and on about how important it is to pair the right mare with the right stallion.”_

_Tylan groaned and rolled his eyes._

_“Not the King of Subtlety, apparently.”_

_“I nearly relieved myself in my pants, Ty! You didn’t see the look in his eyes. He was giving me a warning. And I’ve known your father long enough to know that he rarely does that, and he NEVER gives second chances.” Emmeran pulled back, regret awash on his face, and forcibly removed Tylan’s fingers from gripping his tunic._

_“I’ll protect you,” Tylan pleaded._

_Emmeran sighed and shook his head. While he looked somewhat older than Tylan, the sorrow in his eyes instantly aged him even more._

_“Ty…”_

_Further words wouldn’t come. The two men stared at each other, Tylan’s eyes tearing as he seemed to realize that he would not win this argument._

_“So that’s it? Just like that?” Tylan’s chest hitched._

_“It has to be.” Emmeran looked at him somberly._

_A transformation came over Tylan, his facing shuttering into a blank mask even as a remnant tear slid down his cheek._

_“No,” he said firmly._

_Emmeran’s brow furrowed._

_“No?”_

_“He’s not going to win.”_

_Emmeran sighed and took another step towards the door, shaking his head._

_“It’s over, Ty. Just leave it alone.”_

_“I will handle this,” Ty said without emotion. “Go back to the stables. Live your life. I will handle this and then we’ll have our freedom.”_

_“Ty…”_

_“Goodbye, Emmeran.”_

_Emmeran stood there for a long moment, then deflated even further._

_“Goodbye, Ty.”_

Sheila’s consciousness returned to the room, and she gasped. Quickly, she funneled the energy from the vision down her body and into the dirt beneath her feet. It worked. Not only did she _not_ feel faint, but she didn’t have even the slightest of headaches.

“What just happened?” Tylan asked, pulling away his hand which now held the steaming mug of tea.

The vision had passed through her mind in an instant. While she had experienced nearly ten minutes of Tylan’s heartbreaking discussion with Emmeran, only seconds had passed. If Sheila hadn’t gasped, Tylan might not even have noticed that she had a vision.

“Nothing,” Sheila lied, pulling back and moving to stand.

“Try again,” Tylan said coldly. In a move quicker than she thought him capable of, his hand snaked out and grabbed her arm to stop her from leaving. Unfortunately, she hadn’t thought to reestablish her shield yet, and he triggered yet another vision.

_Sheila and Tylan stood together in an alleyway. They both wore strange-looking purple and green robes that covered them from shoulder to foot. Despite some sort of nearby cacophony, Sheila threaded her hands through Tylan’s hair and pulled him down until their lips met. In return, Tylan pulled her body flush to his, one hand at the small of her back and the other cupping her–_

With a harsh twist of her body, Sheila escaped Tylan’s grip. She stepped back, horrified, and brought up her shields while trying to push the energy of the vision down into the ground. Unfortunately, she hadn’t allowed the full vision to run its course. The magic rebelled against her attempt to release it, and the backlash sent stabbing pains throughout every muscle in her body.

Sheila cried out and slumped onto an empty nearby cot.

“Sheila!” Darian and Ty both cried out at the same time.

As Ty moved to stand up, Darian unsheathed his sword.

“You twitch another muscle in her direction, and I will end you.”

Tylan slowly eased back onto his bed, worriedly watching Sheila as she groaned in pain.

“Pelu! Jahnus!” Darian’s frantic voice called to them across the tent.

The two healers came rushing over and helped Sheila settle fully onto the makeshift bed. They managed to pry her hands away from her head and examined her.

Sheila felt like her head was going to explode and that someone had beaten the rest of her body with a baseball bat. She had no idea that magic could be so punishing. Pelu and Jahnus seemed to relax a bit as they realized that she was simply suffering from another vision.

“I’ll make up some of that tonic we gave you last time. It helped, did it not?” Jahnus asked. Sheila was going to nod but was afraid that she would hurt even more. Even her teeth hurt.

“Yes,” she managed to croak.

Pelu ran a soft hand soothingly over Sheila’s forehead while Darian reluctantly resheathed his weapon. He did however stare daggers at Tylan, who watched Sheila with curiosity and caution.

Sheila heard him snap his fingers at she stared at the roof of the tent and tried not to vomit.

“You’re one of the Sisters!”

She knew he was referring to the Sisters of Thaumaturgy that Micula had mentioned weeks before.

“Never met ‘em,” she whispered, trying to limit the sound of her own voice from aggravating her migraine. Even the dim light in the tent felt invasive.

“Right, Sheila from the Land of Science. But you do have visions, don’t you?” He sounded both interested and scared. “What did you see?”

Sheila knew there was no point in trying to lie at this point. She knew she sucked at it. And right then she didn’t have the energy for anything except trying to keep the earlier drink from coming back up. Memories of Micula’s warning about confidentiality surged to the forefront of her mind.

“It was a very private moment that I doubt you would want me to share right now.”

At that, Tylan stilled and shot a glance at Darian, who looked supremely unhappy at the interplay between Sheila and Tylan. Then the corner of Tylan’s mouth twitched, as if suddenly amused by his own thoughts.

“If it was just sex, by all means do share. I’m sure dear Darian here would love to hear about my exploits. Make sure to give a detailed description of what you saw.”

Poor Darian, Sheila thought. He didn’t look like he was going to last the night watching over the prince. It would serve Tylan right if she did share everything she saw, at least about the first vision. (There was no chance in hell that she would ever be sharing the second partial vision with anyone, especially Darian.) But no, she wouldn’t blab about Tylan’s argument with Emmeran, not in front of the others anyway. Luckily, Jahnus saved her from having to respond.

“Here we go, Sheila.” He handed her a small cup. “Drink it all down. I’ll give you some water afterward this time, so you don’t wake up with dragon breath in the morning.” His eyes twinkled with good humor.

“Thank you for your consideration.” Sheila managed a small smile for the man. After she drank the disgusting cocktail down, he handed her a water bag, which she accepted gratefully.

“I added some powdered rangu horn tonight. It will help you sleep,” he said as she gulped down the water.

It must have been a very powerful ingredient because Sheila already felt herself becoming drowsy.

“Way to warn a girl,” she slurred as her head fell back onto the cot.

Jahnus shrugged and gently lifted the water bottle out of her hands. That was the last thing Sheila registered before she fell into a dreamless slumber.

~*~

“Sheila… Sheila!”

In that nexus between dreams and wakefulness, Sheila floated, hearing the distant calls of her name. Slowly, she became aware of her body and that someone was shaking it. As her eyes fluttered open, she instantly regretted the act as the light caused a piercing pain through her head. She groaned and shut her lids tightly.

“Sheila! Wake up! We have to go. Now!”

Sheila braced herself as she reopened her eyes and looked up at Pelu, who stood over her, panicked.

“What’s going on?” she muttered as she tried to push herself into a sitting position.

“Krondor’s men are less than an hour away and headed this way. We have to pack up camp and go right now.”

As adrenalin started to course through her veins, Sheila rapidly became wide awake. At a glance, she could see that she was the only person besides her and Pelu that were still in the healing tent, and that it was being dismantled from the outside, even as Sheila rose to her feet.

“What time is it? Did I miss breakfast and morning drills?”

“Sheila, it’s after lunch,” Pelu said. At Sheila’s surprise, she added, “Jahnus didn’t realize that you’d had alcohol last night, otherwise he wouldn’t have given you the rangu horn. The two don’t mix well.” Pelu rushed around the nearly empty tent, throwing the remaining items into a saddle pack.

“Do you need any help?” Sheila shook her arms and legs, trying to get the blood flowing.

“No, I’ve got this covered. Illyria wants to see you before you saddle up your horse. Darian has your weapons.”

After thanking Pelu again for her help, Sheila left the tent and found Illyria saddling up Quiet Storm while keeping an eye on Serena, who was riding Moonbeam nearby.

“You wanted to see me?”

“Yes. We cannot linger here long, but before I decide whether to accept Prince Tylan’s word regarding our best next move, I wanted to check with you regarding your vision from last night.”

Sheila shifted uncomfortably. Again, Micula’s words regarding keeping personal visions confidential bombarded her conscience. Illyria’s eyes sharpened at Sheila’s delayed reply.

“Will he betray us?”

“Honestly, I don’t know. I saw a vision of his past. I’m not going to go into detail, but it seemed to reaffirm that there was legitimate strife between him and his father, and it was regarding something that was very important to him.”

“But you won’t tell me the details?” Illyria frowned.

Sheila prayed that she wouldn’t push the issue. With Illyria as Queen, Sheila wasn’t sure what the protocol was if her Queen ordered her to divulge the details of what she saw. She was beginning to see more and more why the Sisters lived by a Code, and Sheila wished that she had been trained on all the ins and outs of it. For now, she simple shook her head. Then she added, “I swear to you, Illyria, if anything comes up where more details are relevant to our safety, I will share them with you. Will you trust me to do that?”

Illyria took a deep breath and tightened the saddle on Quiet Storm’s back. After a moment, she met Sheila’s eyes.

“Is that all you saw?”

Sheila swallowed hard. She absolutely did not want to share her vision about that kiss. Not only would it look bad, politically speaking, but Illyria was Darian’s sister, and her allegiance would always be to him.

“There was more,” Sheila admitted. “But nothing relevant to our safety.” There. That was truthful, at least as far as she knew. Illyria kept staring at her, as if assessing her honesty. In the silence, Quiet Storm turned his head to nuzzle Sheila, and Illyria seemed to relax at his seal of approval.

“Yes, I will trust you, little one. Please… don’t do anything to break that trust.”

The moment was heavy, as if Illyria had started to question Sheila’s loyalty.

“Of course,” Sheila agreed, willing her legs to stop trembling. “Where are we headed?”

Before Illyria could answer, Darian was suddenly at Sheila’s side.

“Here,” he said stiffly, handing Sheila her sword and dagger.

“Thanks,” she replied, equally stiff. She strapped on her weapons and was still contemplating what else to say to him, when he turned and addressed his sister.

“So where _are_ we headed?”

“Prince Tylan has some information about Laric’s location,” she began, gesturing to the man as he approached with his guard escort trailing behind.

“Illyria, you can’t be serious! How could you possibly trust one word out of that man’s mouth?” he demanded with heat, as if the object of his derision wasn’t within earshot. Tylan looked amused, which only seemed to feed Darian’s irritation.

Illyria, however, was not amused. In fact, Sheila was grateful that she wasn’t on the receiving end of Illyria’s glare. Darian should have known better than to question her decisions in front of others, especially in front of Tylan.

“Careful, brother,” she warned, throwing her shoulders back and standing to her full height. “Are you questioning your Queen?” Her serious, dangerous tone caught Darian’s attention and he paled. Sheila knew that Illyria didn’t stand on titles, and that her reminder was less about her station, and more about Darian’s inappropriateness at questioning her decisions in public. Such an act might cause others to lose their respect for her authority. It was hard enough to be a woman in this realm, never mind being a leader of both men and women.

Darian looked appropriately censured and dropped to one knee.

“Please forgive me, my Queen,” he said with a sincerity that surprised Sheila. Then again, she realized that she shouldn’t be surprised. He had fought under her leadership since he was a teenager, and he was now one of her trusted guards. He’d likely even sworn an oath or two in his time to follow her rule.

Sheila watched Tylan as his smirk faded and a more contemplative look came over him. Although it was subtle, he seemed moved by Darian’s show of deference to his sister. Illyria’s irritation seemed to lift as quickly as it had descended.

“Apology accepted,” she said mildly as she waved for him to rise. “Please gather the others. They should hear this as well.”

Darian quickly corralled the other warriors and guards to join them. He returned with Serena on his shoulders, and he looked much calmer than he had moments before. Sheila’s heart skipped a beat as she watched him gently lower the little girl to the ground, then ruffle her hair as she leaned against him. He would make an amazing father someday.

The group fell quiet as Illyria held up a regal hand.

“For anyone who does not yet know, this is Prince Tylan Ravenbrace, Krondor’s son. He helped us rescue Kara, Atmar, and the others yesterday from the castle. He also fought with us to escape, and guided us safely out of the city.”

Sheila’s eyes scanned the group. Some listened passively to Illyria’s words, while others were clearly suspicious of the man’s motivations. Micula remained stoic as always, but Sheila thought she felt a disturbance coming from her, as if she wasn’t shielding her emotions as tightly as she usually did.

“He believes that his father is transporting Laric by boat to Perian on a ship called the Princess Kaylani.” She held up her hand again to stall any comments. “Regardless of whether Krondor could be successful in that endeavor, that is the best intelligence we have regarding the location of our King.”

“I already told you Daddy’s on a boat,” Serena huffed.

Illyria smiled.

“So you did, little one. And now we have further confirmation that you were correct.”

Tylan eyed Serena with interest and Sheila stiffened, remembering Illyria’s earlier warning that Krondor wanted to get Serena under his control. If Tylan was playing some sort of long con to try to ingratiate himself into the group so that he could get his hands on the little girl, he certainly had made a good head start. But if he was sincere, for whatever his personal reasons, in his desire to extricate himself from his father’s rule… well, she didn’t want to prejudge him too harshly. If only she could know for sure. Unfortunately, a single vision of his past wasn’t enough to help her with that assessment. And that partial vision of the future… She couldn’t even contemplate the meaning of that right now.

Tylan stepped forward, capturing the group’s attention.

“He set out nearly two weeks ago, however he wasn’t planning to go to Perian immediately. He was first sailing to Campora, to retain Laric’s family as well, before going to Perian.”

Darian scoffed and tightened his arms around his niece.

“Why don’t you say it plain instead of flowering it up? Your father was going to try to kidnap Illyria and Serena and throw them into some dank hole in his ship, just like Laric.”

Tylan stared at Darian for a long moment.

“You’re right.”

Darian’s eyes widened at the man’s frank agreement.

“But,” Tylan pushed on. “This means several things in our favor. He likely doesn’t know yet that you all have made it to Krondor City, or that I’ve joined you. That will also mean that, as he comes back this way before heading to Perian, you’ll have the opportunity to intercept him, if you act quickly. If not, then we’ll have to follow him to Perian and intercept him there.”

Sheila caught again Illyria’s subtle warning shake of her head to the others. She was standing slightly behind Tylan, so he wouldn’t have seen it. There was something about _going to Perian_ that she did not want Tylan to know. Unfortunately, Sheila didn’t know either, and she was beginning to feel frustrated with the secrecy.

“If Krondor doesn’t know that we’re in his territory, then why are his men headed this way?” Myno challenged.

“They’re likely tracking the escape of _the insurgents_ from the castle, and they’re also probably looking for me if they’ve noticed yet that I’m missing. There’s nothing to suggest otherwise at this point,” Tylan answered calmly. He looked over to Sheila. “Before you arrived in the castle, we’d had no word that the Queen or her daughter were on our lands. We had received report of some _rebels_ , but nothing indicating that you all were anything but a trifle.” He shrugged somewhat apologetically.

“Do you know which is the last port they intend to visit before they head for Perian?” Illyria asked.

“Yes… Ansar,” Tylan answered.

In a graceful leap, Illyria suddenly sat astride Quiet Storm, looking every inch like a Queen ready to lead her people into battle.

“Then, to Ansar we ride!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shameless plug y'all, completely unrelated to this story. I just had my first book published by an actual publisher! I'm so excited. The ebook came out in Jan, but the print copy just became available last weekend. 
> 
> If you have any interest in checking it out, you can get it on many of the online places, including Amazon. It's titled: Asylum by Julian Burnes (yes, that's a pen name)  
> My website has a blog where I talk about my journey with the book, and have links on where to find it...  
> [JulianBurnes.com](https://julianburnes.com/)
> 
> Mildly spoilery warnings: contains mental health themes, supernatural themes, family drama, self-harm, substance abuse, and hot man on man action. Yeah, it's got a lot going on! 
> 
> Please consider checking it out! :)


	9. Princess Kaylani

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The journey continues to Ansar...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My sincerest apologies to those who have been waiting for this new chapter. I've been in a Corona induced slump. (I'm not sick, just mentally affected by the changes to our way of life currently.) I hope you'll forgive the delay. If it helps, this is the longest chapter yet. :) No beta this time though, so please also forgive any errors.

Sheila was ready to throttle both Darian and Tylan. Between Darian’s ongoing hostility, and Tylan’s relentless goading, somebody wasn’t going to make it through another day unscathed. It had been less than three days since they’d left Krondor City, and Sheila was seriously considering riding back to the castle and asking to be put out of her misery.

Gritting her teeth, she urged Thunder past the two sniping men, and eased his gallop as she caught up with Pelu. One of the nice things about the healer was that she didn’t feel the need to fill every silence with unnecessary chitchat. Pelu simply smiled at Sheila and let her trot along beside her.

Sheila inhaled deeply and tried to center herself, taking in the clear blue sky above and the winding rocky mountain path ahead. They were traveling by day now that they had passed westerly out of Krondor’s lands. From the maps that Laric’s men had crafted, it looked like Krondor City was located on the inner heel of the boot-shaped land mass that reminded Sheila of Italy back on Earth. Ansar looked to be southwest, past the arch and near where the ball of the foot would sit on the coast.

Yesterday they had traveled past the abandoned caves where the Hickorites had once lived. According to Illyria, they’d long since been driven out by Krondor and his mages. She had heard rumors that the tribe had traveled north to escape Krondor’s expanding rule, to the wilds of the northeast coast.

The warriors had considered camping the night in the shelter of the empty caves, but Quiet Storm had urged them away, as if sensing something unsettling that most of them could not perceive. Sheila had shared a look with Micula, as she too felt the prickling of something sinister. Micula didn’t comment, but merely encouraged Illyria to heed the unicorn’s warning, and to continue farther down the coast before stopping for the night.

A shiver ran down Sheila’s spine as she recalled the eerie feeling. It reminded her of the unsettling sensation of the _dark_ gods she’d encountered back in Samarna when they’d faced King Kumuru. Of course, in the end she’d discovered that the gods weren’t dark, per se, they were just very old and their power had been abused by Kumuru. Perhaps this feeling was merely a remnant of deep magic. Unsettling, yes. But evil? Perhaps not.

Then again, Quiet Storm was probably wise to lead them away. If someone was conjuring such forces, they didn’t want to take a chance at a confrontation. The energy could be a mere echo of magic cast days, weeks, or even months ago, but there was no way to be sure unless they risked investigating. It had been many years since any of them had visited the caves, so their knowledge of them wouldn’t be sufficient to take the risk. They could easily find themselves trapped with no way out.

To Sheila’s relief, the creepy sensations had faded quickly as soon as they passed out of sight of the caves. She noticed that Tylan had remained silent during the entire experience. That was noteworthy, as otherwise he’d been relentlessly chatty with everyone, including his _guards_ , gaining their reluctant favor with his easy manner. That is, except for Darian, who still tensed every time he stood within ten feet of Tylan, or whenever his name came up in conversation.

Sheila had avoided both men for days, not wanting to complicate matters any further. Now that Tylan was aware of her ability to channel visions, there was no way she was going to get another chance at contact without him knowing exactly what she was up to. Although, he didn’t seem to be holding any sort of grudge, as he continued to smirk and wink at her whenever their gazes met. In fact, it was one such overture that had sparked the latest harsh words from Darian to the handsome prince.

Darian had scoffed and muttered, _Can’t find a woman of your own, aye? You have to come after mine?_ Sheila’s ire had swiftly risen at being discussed like a possession, but before she could speak up in her own defense, Tylan replied. _Oh, Darian. So insecure. You know… that’s probably the only quality you possess that prevents you from being irresistible._ Darian had blinked back, speechless, his face turning several impressive shades of red. _Of course, I’d be willing to overlook that,_ Tylan had said as he urged his horse closer to Darian, batting his eyelashes playfully. Wildwing snorted and bobbed his head as if asking Darian whether he wanted him to gore the intruder. Unfortunately for Darian, he was on guard duty for the prince at present, and murdering him would probably have been frowned upon. Darian smoothed a hand down Wildwing’s neck, settling him, then turned and met Tylan’s come-hither gaze. _Not if you paid me all the riches in the land, murdered your father, and returned Campora to peace with Laric and Illyria safely back on their thrones,_ he had growled. Tylan had laughed and shot him a wry look. _Your fervent protestations belie your words, Darian. Soldiers talk, you know. Oh, the stories they have of late nights lonely in the barracks…_ Darian had stiffened. _You don’t know what you’re talking about. Have you no shame?_ Tylan had stilled, the good humor sliding off him, the creaking of his leather saddle the only sound for a long moment. Then he had said so quietly that Sheila had to strain to hear, _Shame has no place in this world aside from with those who cast it._

Now as Sheila rode next to Pelu, she thought about Darian and Tylan’s interaction. Did some of the soldiers share Tylan’s predilections? She watched Jahnus and Tarrin riding up ahead, just out of earshot, with Cam trailing behind them.

“Hey Pelu?”

“Yes?”

“If this is none of my business, just say so, but I was wondering… when I was here seven years ago, you told me you had a crush on Cam and that he was going to take you to his home where they raised horses. Whatever happened with him?” Clearly Pelu was in love with Jahnus now, and Sheila suspected there was a story there. She saw Pelu smile wryly.

“We did visit his homeland. His family has a beautiful farm with dozens of horses they care for. Some of them even breed with the unicorns. Similar to Illyria’s family, they keep the horse foals, and allow the unicorn foals to roam with the wild unicorn herds in Perian.”

“So why aren’t you together?”

“Well, when he introduced me to his mother as his friend, and then tried to set me up with his younger brother, I knew that we were not seeing things in the same light.”

“Did you ever tell him how you felt?” Sheila watched as Pelu shrugged and tilted her head.

“No.” As Sheila started to protest, Pelu, added, “Once I started paying attention, it was pretty obvious that he didn’t share my feelings. But, to be honest, my feelings must not have been very strong either, because the moment I met Jahnus in Cam’s family’s stable, I knew that my interests lay elsewhere.” Her cheeks flushed with happiness at the mere mention of his name.

“So, does that mean you two have been seeing each other for nearly seven years?” Sheila’s eyebrows lifted.

“We were friends at first. I think we always felt more for each other, but with him living in Perian, and me living in Campora, our lives were on different tracks for many years.”

“What changed?”

“During one of my visits to Perian, we finally came to our senses.” Pelu smiled with fond recollection. “That’s a very long story for another time,” she added. “But he couldn’t just abandon his job, and I couldn’t leave Illyria at that time, so we agreed to save our earnings and made arrangements to reunite in a year and create a home for ourselves. He worked to train an apprentice to take over his duties at the ranch, while I started training a new healer to serve Illyria and Laric. Sadly, Yashiana was killed when Krondor invaded Campora. Jahnus received word that Campora had been attacked, so he and Tarrin came to see if I was still alive. Luckily for us, we were still on our way home from Ryudain when the city was first attacked, so we were spared. Many were not so lucky,” she said with a small sigh, her delicate fingers running through the silvery mane of her white unicorn mare, Stardust.

“Dian didn’t go to Ryudain with you?”

“No, Illyria asked her to remain at the castle and help oversee its management with Laric while the rest of us traveled with the unicorns.”

Sheila could just imagine the guilt that Illyria must have felt when she learned of Dian’s death.

“When we were about a day’s ride outside of the city on our return,” Pelu continued, “Dian’s unicorn, Swiftfoot, began acting strangely, bucking and braying. Illyria knew that something must have been wrong back in Campora, so we rode as quickly as we could back to the city…” Pelu’s eyes took on a far-off glaze, re-seeing horrors from months ago.

“…But it was too late,” Sheila concluded. Pelu swallowed and shook herself out of her memory.

“Yes. Those who didn’t perish fled the city. Laric knew he was outmatched with the majority of his soldiers being without magic. It was only with the unicorns’ help, the night we finally arrived, that we were able to send Krondor and his men into retreat.”

Sheila had seen the beautiful beasts in battle before. They were a force to be reckoned with. But against mages…

“They were immune to the mages’ magic?”

“Having just been renewed at Ryudain, they were at their strongest. And the Goddess must have been looking out for us, because I’ve never seen such a thing before or since.”

“What happened?”

“I’m not exactly sure, but Quiet Storm let out an earsplitting battle call, and as I sat on my own Stardust, I saw a white beam of light shine down from the moon to Quiet Storm’s horn, and then beam out from his horn to all of the other unicorns. Any mages that were caught in the beams started screaming and fell to the ground in agony.”

“Wow…”

“It was amazing and horrible all at once.” Pelu shuddered.

Sheila knew that the healer couldn’t help but abhor suffering of all creatures, even her enemies. She wasn’t so sure she’d have felt so altruistic in the wake of such an attack.

“Did they die?”

“Not that I know of. But enough of them were affected that Krondor had the rest of his men transport them away from the battle, and promised to return soon to finish the job.”

“Did he come back?”

“Presumably, but we weren’t there to fight him. Laric knew that we wouldn’t stand a chance without additional magical help. With the city empty, Laric had Micula cast a powerful spell to repel all from entering until he returns and Micula lifts the spell.”

“But I entered the city… and Cam was in the castle as well,” Sheila recalled. Then she remembered the strange tingling sensation she’d felt as she’d walked through the destroyed gates.

“The spell repels everyone except for Laric’s inner circle. This includes his eagle warriors and all of Illyria’s warriors.” Pelu’s eyes shimmered. “At least the ones that are still alive.” She added with forced brightness, “I guess the magic must have recognized you even after all these years.”

“I guess…,” Sheila agreed reluctantly, internally wondering if magic ever got it wrong. More and more lately she felt like an outsider. Her loyalty was as inviolable as ever, but she missed that easy camaraderie that she’d once felt amongst these women. Sure, Pelu, the kindest of them, still spoke to her without reservation. But the others…

Sheila shifted in her saddle and observed the differences between Thunder and Stardust, who stood a head above the powerful brown stallion. For as strong and swift as her mount was, he would never match the strength and speed of a unicorn. An image of Morning Star flashed in Sheila’s mind, and she felt the prickling burn of tears rising. She took a deep breath and urged Thunder into a gallop, hoping the wind would dry them before they fell.

~*~

“Are you sure this is safe?” Darian asked Micula as Sheila sat cross-legged by the fire in their camp just outside of Ansar. She began to ground herself, trying to tune out the nearby discussion.

“There are risks, but we don’t have many other options.” Micula pulled a few dried herbs from a leather satchel on her ebony unicorn and began grinding them in a small stone bowl.

“Can’t you do it?”

“No, Darian. Visions and remote viewing are not amongst my gifts,” Micula said calmly, but Sheila could hear a slight edge to her tone.

“I don’t see why we can’t just get an audience with the Sareen and ask them for help. They owe him their loyalty,” Darian huffed.

“Loyalty is only relevant to those who value such a quality,” Tylan said as he eased down onto the grass next to Sheila. “The Sareen learned long ago that the only thing that deserves their loyalty is that which helps them survive. My father allows them to continue running Ansar, but only because they were wise enough to yield to his every demand. The only way they will be loyal to Laric is if he can prove that he’s stronger and more dangerous than my father.”

“Agreed,” Illyria said, joining them at the firepit. “I have sensed their mercurial allegiance every time I’ve encountered them since we overthrew Dynasian. So has Laric. However, since they are so respected by the Ansarian people, he chose to allow them to run the city.”

“So it’s anyone’s guess regarding whether they’d allow us to walk their streets unhindered,” Darian concluded grimly.

“True. Although, I wouldn’t risk assuming the best. I know for certain that my father had broadsheets created with Illyria and Laric’s likenesses, sending them to all of the major cities and ports in this region, offering a great reward for the capture of the royal pretenders, Illyria and Laric.”

“Pretenders?” Sheila’s eyelids popped open as her brows raised. At Micula’s stern look, she quickly closed them and continued grounding as Illyria answered her question.

“I’m not of royal blood. Although it doesn’t matter to him that I never claimed to be,” Illyria muttered. “He’s simply using that as an excuse to spread doubt regarding my position as Queen.”

“And Laric?” Sheila said with her eyes closed, which handily kept her from seeing whether Micula was frowning at her.

“He claims that Laric is not the true King of Perian, that the family lineage–”

“We need to get started or we could risk missing them if they’ve made it to the city,” Micula interrupted as she pulled a flaming stick from the fire. “Are you ready, Sheila?”

“I think so,” Sheila said, hoping she was indeed ready. She’d only practiced remote viewing once before, so her nerves jangled. Taking a deep breath, she focused again on the energy of the earth, sky, and flora surrounding her. Micula dipped the flaming stick into the bowl until the herbs began to smolder, then handed the smoking bowl to Sheila.

“Hold this up and inhale the smoke as deeply as you can. These plants will help your mind travel the distance to Ansar and its harbor. They will also help protect you.”

Sheila glanced down at the bowl, then lifted it and breathed in deeply through her nose. The smell of the smoke reminded her of sweetgrass and tobacco and something else with an earthier quality. After only a few inhales, she felt her eyelids droop, so she let them fall closed. After the next inhale, her head began to swim, and even though she couldn’t see anything, she felt like the ground was spinning around her. Her limbs felt heavy. She wasn’t sure, but she thought someone had lifted the bowl from her hands. Then she felt warm rough fingers against her own.

“Okay, Sheila. It’s time to lower your shields and focus on Laric. Illyria will be focusing as well. Reach out with your mind to Laric…”

Micula’s voice faded as Sheila lowered her shields and suddenly found herself elsewhere. She felt enclosed in a dark place. Muffled water slapping against wood was the only sound filling the almost pitch-black space. A sliver of light peeked in underneath the single locked door. The room smelled dank and of unwashed body and other things that she didn’t want to think about.

_Laric?_ Sheila called out with her mind. She heard the metal clink of manacles and the shifting of someone in the darkness. _Laric? Is that you? It’s me Sheila… if you can hear me, you’ll have to answer me aloud, I can’t hear your thoughts._

“Sheila?” his voice rasped.

_Yes! Oh my God, it’s working! Yes, it’s me! I’m here with Illyria. We’re just outside of Ansar. Do you know if that’s where you are?_

“I’m- I’m not sure.” He swallowed as if trying to moisten his mouth enough to speak. “There aren’t any windows down here. I don’t even know how long its been since I was taken. Can I talk to Illyria?”

_I’m sorry, but no. I’m just learning how to do this remote vision stuff. Micula is helping me to learn. We’re trying to find you._

“Is Serena okay?” Laric asked, his voice quivering.

_She’s fine. She’s with us. Illyria doesn’t trust anyone else to watch over her._

Sheila heard him sob in relief and her heart melted. She wanted nothing more than to give the man a hug, but she wasn’t about to make the same mistake as last time and try to physically touch anything.

_Is there anything you can tell us that can help us find you?_

“I don’t think so.”

_Damn. Are you sure?_

“Can you leave this room and go up on deck? The only thing I know is that we’re not sailing right now. We’re docked somewhere…”

Sheila tried to exit the room but found that she couldn’t project her mind further than Laric’s immediate surroundings. Curious, she wondered at the principles behind remote viewing. But now wasn’t the time to philosophize.

_I think I’m stuck down here with you until my mind goes back to camp._

“Please tell Illyria and Serena that I love them,” Laric’s breath hitched. “And tell Illyria… not to risk getting caught just to save me. Sometimes she forgets that she’s not just a warrior anymore, she’s a mother, and Serena… Serena needs her.”

Sheila cringed internally at the idea of passing that message along, but she also knew that she would never refuse the King’s request.

_Of course,_ she said regardless of her reservations. _We’re going to do our best to save you, Laric. Hang in there, okay?_

“The thought of being back with my wife and daughter is what keeps me fighting, Sheila of the Land of Science. As long as there’s hope of being with them again, I will fight with my last breath. I have faith that between you and my sister, you’ll figure out a way to free me. If there’s anything else I can do to help, please let me know.”

_We will,_ Sheila assured him. Then she brought her mind back into her body and pushed the energy of the vision down into the grass beneath her crossed legs. She opened her eyes and released Illyria’s hand.

“Did it work?” the Queen asked, hope alighting her features.

“Sort of.” Sheila proceeded to share all of the details of her experience. Her head continued to swim with the effects of the herb smoke. As Sheila relayed the last of Laric’s message to his wife about not putting herself at risk, she watched Illyria’s jaw clench.

“He’s right,” Darian said to his sister in a gentle tone.

“I know that,” she snapped. “Not that it matters. We still have no idea if he’s in Ansar or not.”

“I tried to see if I could get a view from the deck of the ship, but I think there’s a limitation to this ability where I can only see directly around the person that I’m projecting to. If we knew of someone who’s not trapped in a windowless room, then I could try projecting to them…” As soon as she said it, she felt her stomach churn with the knowledge of what she’d likely be asked to do next. She wasn’t wrong.

Tylan held out his hand to her.

“Well, let’s get this over with then.” He waggled his fingers.

“Get what over with?” Darian asked, but by the look on his face, Sheila guessed that he already knew the answer.

“If there is one person I know that won’t be cooped up, it’s my father.”

“Is it safe for her to project to Krondor?” Illyria asked Micula.

Micula’s lips pursed and she pulled more herbs from her pack.

“I wouldn’t say that it’s safe, but with the right preparations, the risk will be minimal.”

“Preparations?” Sheila asked as she wiped her sweaty fingers onto her thighs.

“I’ll add more protections to the mix,” Micula answered as she ground the new herbs. “We’ll also cast a protection circle around you before you travel. And – this part is most critical – while you’re in his presence, you must not speak to him. If he becomes aware of your presence, I cannot guarantee what will happen.”

Sheila shifted her shoulders, trying to fend off the shiver that suddenly came over her. She remembered Micula’s words from weeks ago regarding those Sisters that got trapped, unable to return to their bodies… _They stay in a state of catatonia indefinitely._

“Hey, Mags,” Tylan called, diverting her attention from her burgeoning panic attack. “It’ll be fine. If my father tries messing with you, just do what I do.” He left the sentence hanging, so that Sheila had to respond. She took a deep breath, thankful for the distraction.

“Oh, yeah, and what’s that?”

“Bug the shit out of him until he’s so worked up that he can’t focus enough to do anything meaningful.”

The corner of Sheila’s mouth twitched up into a slight smirk.

“That’s your master strategy, huh?”

He shrugged.

“Hey, don’t mock it. That’s a quarter of a century of success.”

“Okay, children, are we ready?” Micula asked, looking slightly amused, which surprised Sheila. Micula rarely looked anything but completely serious.

“Yes, Ma’am,” Tylan saluted, and Micula’s dour countenance returned.

“Okay, Sheila, breath this in, the same as before. Just remember, don’t engage with anyone, just observe as much as you can about the area.” Micula passed the smoking bowl to Sheila.

Sheila breathed in the smoke and felt her eyes immediately begin to tear. Whatever Micula had added to this batch held a spiciness that raced up her sinuses. Her face felt enflamed, but almost immediately the pain faded as a sense of tranquility washed over her entire body. But even as her body fell into a lax state, her mind sharpened, and the moment that Tylan’s smooth fingers met hers, she felt her consciousness shift in the blink of an eye.

~*~

“Three days, Sir,” a man in captain’s attire spoke to a ruggedly handsome man clad in rich heavy brocade fabrics. Sheila could clearly see the resemblance between this man and Tylan, with their similar high cheekbones and near-black hair, although Krondor wore his hair in a plait that fell to nearly his waist. The hair was pulled tightly away from his face and gave him a look of severity as he scowled at the captain.

“Why so long?” He had a pleasantly deep voice that seemed almost incongruous coming out of his slender body. His shoulders were broader than his son’s, but not by much. Sheila thought he could have passed more as Tylan’s older brother than his father, but as she looked closely, she could see the fine lines that had started to etch their way into the skin on his handsome face. He sat at an ornate wooden desk in the ship’s large stateroom, and was putting the finishing touches on a letter, sealing it with a crimson wax stamp that resembled the sun-like _krino_ , a symbol Sheila recognized grimly as related to dark magic.

“We spent much longer in Campora’s harbor than anticipated, my King.” The man gripped his hat in his hands, his knuckles white. “And since we didn’t have the opportunity to stock up on food or refresh the casks there, we need do so here, Sir. That alone will take a day or two depending on local stores, but there’s also the repair we must make due to the captive’s escape attempt.”

“Damn fool of a wizard,” Krondor growled. “Trying to blow a hole in the side of the ship while we were in deep waters… one would think he had a death wish. The spell is holding?”

“For now, Sir. But it requires a great deal of power and concentration from your mages to keep the spelled hull intact. Most will need to remain aboard until the repairs are complete.”

Krondor nodded, then rose and handed the letter to the man. “Have this delivered to the fortress, I wish a meeting with the Sareen before nightfall. Have someone retrieve me in the Strega Quarter when they are ready to receive me.”

“Yes, Sir. Right away, sir.”

“And, Captain Jarrett…”

“Yes, Sir?”

“You have two days. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Sir. Of course, Sir.” The captain bowed crisply and made his leave. Krondor stood and Sheila floated silent beside him as he made his way off the ship. Painted on the side of the gorgeous sailing ship, in golden script, was the name _Princess Kaylani_.

Alone, with no guards or companions of any kind, Krondor made his way swiftly through the crowds at the harbor and headed confidently down a maze of streets that led to the western part of the city. While Sheila had enough information at this point to confirm that he was indeed in Ansar, she wanted to continue watching to see what he was up to next.

As he pressed farther west, the streets became narrower and the buildings more ramshackle. While the crowds near the harbor were mainly drab fisherman and conservative middleclass shoppers, the people in this area were dressed in an eclectic mix of colors scrapped together from what seemed to be any kind of cloth they could find. Children ran barefoot in the streets, their faces dirty yet lively as they played some sort of game involving long sticks and a grapefruit-sized ball.

While none of the children took note of the king in their midst, clearly some of the adults recognized him. Many slipped back inside their homes or shoppes in hopes of not coming to his attention. Krondor ignored them, intent on his destination. His brisk pace finally slowed as he approached a modest market area. While some vendors sold fruits, vegetables, and fabrics as expected, others barked calls for various services. _Best massage in all of Ansar, right here! … Get your fortune told, only 5 drachs! … Love spells half price!_

Krondor ducked under a bright fuchsia and saffron curtain and into a makeshift tent crafted from a patchwork of other vibrant colors. An elderly woman with more wrinkles than hair sat motionless at a small wooden table. Sheila couldn’t begin to guess her age, but she would bet the withered woman was at least a century old. Her eyes were filmed over and nearly white, but her other senses must have sharpened due to her lack of eyesight.

“Your Highness.” She nodded her head slightly. “You’ll forgive me if I do not stand or kneel. I sense you are in too much of a hurry to allow for the time that would take.” The corner of her mouth quirked with self-deprecation.

“Oh hush, old woman,” Krondor said with affection as he leaned over and gave her a peck on her dry wrinkled cheek. Sheila felt a stir of confusion deep within. So far this man seemed stern, yet charming. He certainly didn’t live up to the monstrous reputation she’d been hearing about since arriving back in this realm.

Krondor perched lightly on the chair across from the woman and put his hands on the table, as if he’d done this many times before. The woman reached forward and laid her hands over his. Her brow creased and her head cocked to the side as if she was listening to something that only she could hear. Her head rocked side to side, then she stilled.

“Oh, my…”

“What?” Krondor asked.

“You aren’t from around here, are you, my dear?” The old woman had turned her face and was peering her uncanny white eyes in Sheila’s direction. Even though Sheila couldn’t feel her body, a sense of shock and dismay ran through her. Could this woman see her? Could she sense her?

“Zaria, explain yourself.” Krondor sat back and pulled his hands away.

“We have a visitor today…” Zaria waved a long spindly hand in Sheila’s direction. Sheila knew that neither the woman nor Krondor could actually see her, but clearly this woman had senses beyond the normal five.

“Is it–”

“No, your Highness, it is not the one you seek. However, I sense she will help you achieve your ends…”

_What!?_ Sheila thought before she could help herself. Both Zaria and Krondor reacted, both able to hear her exclamation. Krondor stood abruptly and before Sheila could pull back into her body, he cast a spell that made the room light up in an eerie purple glow. The man’s eyes narrowed as he now stared directly where Sheila’s presence floated. Sheila looked down in shock to see a ghostly form of her own body, now visible to everyone in the tent.

“Who are you?” he demanded, vibrant red sparks crackling around his hands as he poised to strike.

Sheila tried to blink back into her physical body, but found herself frozen in place. Panicked, she mentally tugged against the magical bonds that kept her immobile, but to no effect.

_Let me go!_ she demanded in return.

“Calm down, child,” Zaria said in a soothing tone.

Sheila wondered briefly if one could hyperventilate if they weren’t currently corporeal. Panicking definitely wouldn’t help. She imagined herself taking deep, calming breaths, mentally pulling herself together.

_Please release me,_ she managed to project in a much calmer manner.

“You’ll find that I do not like repeating myself,” Krondor said with a frown. “I will not ask again – who are you?”

_Sheila,_ she responded succinctly.

The crease between Krondor’s eyes deepened and he turned to the old witch.

“Is she one of them?”

Zaria cocked her head and after a long moment of silent assessment, shook it.

“No, her magic, her skills… they are much too raw for one such as them.”

Sheila noticed the man’s shoulders relax slightly, and the sparks around his hands disappeared. After staring at her for what seemed like an eternity, Krondor slowly retook his seat and locked eyes with Sheila, calmer and now more curious than angry.

“Why are you spying on me?”

Sheila flushed, not sure how to respond. Suddenly, a flash of an idea came to her, and she hoped silently that Tylan wouldn’t kill her.

_Your son sent me._

“Tylan?” Krondor stilled.

_Yes, we met in Krondor city. When he learned of my abilities, he wanted me to help him contact you. He needs to speak with you about an urgent matter._

“And what is this _urgent matter_?” he asked, clearly skeptical.

_It’s regarding the royal pretenders. Illyria has taken him hostage._

Krondor stilled and Sheila thought she saw the red sparks at his fingers return for an instant, then disappear.

“And how do you know this?”

_Because I ride with her,_ Sheila said. At Krondor’s suspicious glare, Sheila hurried on. _I am from a land very far away. Years ago, I met Illyria and her warriors, and they trained me to help them free the unicorns from Dynasian. After they overthrew Dynasian, I went back to my homeland. Recently, I was forced against my will to return to Campora… and there I reunited with Illyria and her people. But… things have changed greatly since I’ve been away. I’m not the same… neither are they. Different things matter to us now. So, when they took Ty from the castle, I told myself that I would not allow them to use him as a tool for their revenge. He may be a royal pain in the ass, but he does not deserve to be their prisoner. We’ve… become quite… close.”_ Sheila managed to make her ghostly image blush demurely.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Krondor’s amusement when she called his son a pain in the ass. Apparently, that little comment added some credibility to her story. Memories of a million cop tv shows swirled in her mind… if you have to lie, make it as close to the truth as possible… As Sheila mentioned her _closenes_ _s_ to the prince, Krondor rolled his eyes.

“Gods, if I had a drach for every time that boy couldn’t keep it in his pants…” Krondor now gave Sheila a blatant once-over, just like Tylan had when they’d first met.

_Like father, like son, I see._ Sheila said dryly. Krondor’s eyes widened as she spoke to him in such an informal, familiar tone.

“Merely noticing that my son seems to have improved his tastes since I’ve been away,” his eyes took on a sparkle of amusement. However, his good humor evaporated quickly as he seemed to remember what they’d just been discussing. “So, if that bitch queen has him, why don’t you just release him?”

_I’m not strong enough._

“Oh, I sense you are plenty strong, little sorcerous,” Zaria interrupted.

_Okay, fair enough. I may have strong magic, but it is new to me, and I’m just learning how to use it. I’m certainly no match for the mage that Illyria has as her right-hand woman,_ Sheila said, hoping that the authenticity in her words would be apparent.

“This is true. I’ve heard many stories of Micula… some that might make you run back to your homeland. But I have a gift, you see…” the old woman continued. “I not only sense people’s magical gifts as they are now, but also their potential. And you, dear girl, your potential is nearly unfathomable… Once you really embrace your true power, you will make a great impact on this world.”

Sheila floated in stunned silence, certain that the wizened woman’s words were more prophecy than casual chitchat. And if she truly did have immense power, then she could probably override Krondor’s spell that was keeping her here, if she just could figure out how to do it…

“What do you propose then, Sorceress Sheila?” asked Krondor, who looked intrigued by Zaria’s comments. Sheila wouldn’t be surprised if he was pondering how to recruit her.

_I’ll give you our current location, and you can come rescue him._

“That would be a very canny way for your people to set a trap for mine.” Krondor’s eyebrow raised, challenging Sheila.

_True. Although, there are several other factors at play here. First, they’re not my people. But I don’t expect you to hedge your bets on my loyalties. Second, you nearly bested them at Campora. From what I hear, you would have defeated them completely if they hadn’t fled before you returned the next day. Surely you can take them again._

Playing to Krondor’s ego had the desired effect. He lifted his head proudly and acknowledged her words with a slight nod.

“You have heard accurately. We would have ended the pretenders once and for all in the light of day.”

_I can try to arrange for some of the warriors and soldiers to be away on a scouting mission, to lessen the resistance for you to free your son,_ Sheila offered. _My only condition is that you do not kill anyone. We may not be as close as we once were, but I do not wish them harm._

Krondor considered her proposal for a moment, then clapped his hands together.

“Agreed. I will gather my men and we’ll set out at first light. Will you be joining Tylan when we free him?” His tone sounded almost hopeful.

_I’ll need to discuss that with him privately first,_ Sheila said, projecting another blush onto her cheeks. She felt like she deserved an Academy award.

“Very well. Now, where shall we find you?”

_Just outside the village of Nolad, slightly to the west,_ Sheila said, praying that her plan would work.

~*~

Sheila gasped as she reentered her body and pushed the energy that surged over her limbs down and into the grass beneath her as she raised her shields automatically.

“Goddess above! Sheila, are you alright?” Illyria asked, her concerned eyes raking over Sheila’s shaking form. “You were gone for so long!”

To Sheila’s surprise, the sun hung low in the sky. It was late afternoon. Hours had passed since she’d first sat down at the campfire.

“I’m okay…” she managed as she unfolded her stiff legs and staggered to her feet. Despite her achy discomfort, she’d never felt so happy to be back in her own body. She stretched gratefully and took deep breathes of the warm afternoon air.

“Did you find him?” Tylan asked. Sheila couldn’t tell by his expression whether he wanted a positive or affirmative response.

“Yes, he’s here. The Princess Kaylani is docked in Ansar harbor and will be there for at least two days, well, one more day, since today is almost over.” Sheila held up a hand, forestalling any responses from the others. “He knows we’re here.”

Sheila watched as the others reeled at the news, Darian cursing and Tylan paling.

Micula, ever the voice of reason, handed Sheila a water bag and said calmly, “Tell us what happened.”

After slaking her thirst from sitting all afternoon in the heat of the sun, Sheila took a deep breath and explained everything from the moment she saw Krondor on his ship to the moment he released his spell, promising to meet her west of Nolad to rescue his son. Sheila glanced at Tylan, who had been smirking since she mentioned her pretense that they were _involved._ She knew this was the worst thing she could have done in terms of her relationship with Darian, whose jaw was flexing as he ground his teeth together.

“It was the only thing I could think of off the top of my head,” she said defensively.

Illyria patted one of her crossed arms lightly.

“You did well, little sorceress. While he and his mages are hunting for us near Nolad, we’ll sneak onto his ship and rescue my love.”

“Of course, the moment he gets to Nolad and speaks with the locals, he’ll know that Sheila’s lied to him and head right back to the boat,” Tylan added.

“Not if we send some of our warriors and soldiers to that area…” Illyria suggested, gaining steam as the plan started to solidify in her mind. “A small group – Sheila, Tylan, and myself will set out for the city so that we can enter shortly after first light. Micula, you can take the other warriors and soldiers to Nolad and keep Krondor distracted while we free Laric. He’s bound to have a much smaller contingent with him than he did at Campora. I would suggest avoiding straight-out combat, though. If you use the natural cover of the forest, I’m sure you can keep him and his mages busy for hours with a much lower risk of anyone being seriously injured.”

“I agree to your plan of diversion. It is sound. I will lead the efforts at Nolad.” Micula nodded and then hesitated for just a moment before continuing. “Illyria… someone needs to stay here with Serena. I know you wouldn’t want to risk her safety by either bringing her into the city or sending her where the fighting will be,” Micula said gravely. “I think you should stay here with her, and let Darian or one of the others go with Sheila and Tylan into the city.”

“Darian can stay here with Serena,” Illyria replied, her shoulders stiff. “I’m not letting another risk my place to save my husband.”

Darian frowned and approached his sister.

“Lyr, you know I would be honored to look after Serena… but Micula’s right. Your face is plastered all over every major city from Krondor City to Campora. There’s no way you wouldn’t be recognized the moment you stepped foot anywhere near Ansar. Your presence will put the mission at risk.”

Illyria’s mouth pulled tight in frustration at the truth of her brother’s words. When she couldn’t formulate a valid rebuttal, she exhaled loudly and shook her unkempt braids impatiently off her face.

“Fine. You’ll leave when the moon peaks in the sky,” Illyria said before stalking off into the nearby forest.

~*~

“Darian…,” Sheila called softly after the others had left them alone by the fire. He looked up from the pot of savory-smelling stew he was stirring.

“Yeah?”

Sheila shored up her courage and managed to look him in the eye as she brought up that which had gone unspoken over the last several days.

“You are clearly upset with me over what happened at Krondor City.” When he didn’t respond, she pressed on. “Which frankly pisses me off.” As he stood up from his crouch by the fire, she stalked over to him, keeping her voice low but no less fervent. “I’ve risked my life to help you and Illyria time and again. Even now, when I’ve been dropped back into your world without my consent, I’m still putting my neck on the line for your causes. And before you ask why, you fool, it’s because I love you all.”

Darian’s mouth fell open at her declaration, and she continued.

“I get that you’re jealous because Tylan is a good-looking man and I enjoy his company. But if you want any chance with me at all, then you’ll find a way to get over it, because I doubt that Tylan will be the only such man I’ll ever meet in my life, and if you lose your shit and stop talking to me every single time you get jealous, this isn’t going to work.”

Sheila felt like she was in a staring contest as Darian stood face-to-face, his expression unreadable. There was no way she was going to back down this time. She’d had it, and if they were going on this mission together, never mind have a relationship going forward, something was going to have to give. Her eyebrows raised in challenge to this godsforsaken handsome man, and she finally saw what she hoped for, a slight softening in his icy demeanor.

It was like a damn breaking, that first quirk of humor that twitched at the corner of his lips. Sheila tried her best not to break her stern demeanor, but against her will, her lips joined his in, at first in a reluctant grin, and then, the more she tried to fight it, fits of laughter until they were both holding onto each other for support. Her stomach ached then fluttered as their laughter faded and they finally engaged in an altogether friendlier stare.

“I’m serious,” she said, still unable to hold back a smile.

Darian looked down at her with affection and took a deep breath.

“You’re right.”

“Two words that have saved countless relationships,” Sheila quirked, and Darian pulled her closer.

“Why does he have to be so damn sexy…” Darian sighed, and Sheila pulled back a bit to look at Darian.

“Uh, should I be the one who’s jealous here?” Never in a million years did she expect those to be words coming out of Darian’s mouth.

Darian pulled away slowly and lowered himself to sit on the ground near the fire. The light from the flames flickered off his face as Sheila joined him and watched him work to put his thoughts to words. Finally, he pulled his gaze away from the flames and looked back to Sheila.

“No, you shouldn’t be jealous, because I have no intention of pursuing anything with him.”

“But if I wasn’t here you might?” Sheila’s head was spinning. He turned back to the fire and propped his elbows on his knees.

“After you left Ryudain, I was pretty wrecked for a long time.” Sheila made an involuntary wounded noise because she, too, had felt wrecked in the wake of their abrupt separation. Darian swallowed and continued. “I’m not saying that to make you feel guilty. Just explaining my state of mind. Anyway, as you probably saw in your vision, Dian and I grew pretty close. We tried seeing each other, but I couldn’t get over the feeling of guilt I felt whenever we were together, and she grew tired of my lingering feelings for you.”

“I can imagine…” It wasn’t hard. Dian had always been jealous of Sheila from the moment they’d met.

“After she and I stopped spending time together, I planned to remain alone, to sink myself as deeply as I could into my duties as a soldier.” Darian’s voice faltered and stalled. After a long moment, Sheila prodded him.

“You focused all your energy on being a good soldier…”

After another eternal moment staring into the fire, he continued.

“Most people have no idea what it’s like being a soldier, living in the barracks, spending all of your time with the same men, men who would lay down their lives for you and you for them. Bonds form. And sometimes, in the dark of night, when there’s little comfort to be had on the road…”

“You turn to one another,” Sheila finished, her voice once again soft and understanding. He nodded silently.

“Once you cross that line… no matter what you might tell yourself in the moment… it opens a door. For some men, like Cam, all they’ll ever have is their desire for other men. But for me, and many others, it’s more complicated and confusing.” He finally turned back to Sheila and she could see the passion behind his eyes. “Because I love you, Sheila McCarthy. Of that one thing, I am absolutely clear. I’ve been clear on that fact for the last seven years. So, despite whatever Tylan says or does, and despite the fact that I wouldn’t mind bending him over my saddle and showing him a thing or two… that means nothing in the face of a possible future with you.”

Sheila swallowed thickly, her senses on overload. All at once she felt aroused at the visual that Darian dropped – which she would ignore right now, because… not appropriate – and also excited and terrified at his declaration of his feelings for her. That which she wanted down in the hidden depths of her soul was suddenly being placed before her so unexpectedly. Would she even spend the rest of her life in Arren? Something deep within her told her that this time there would be no journey back to Earth… even if Dr. Reit or Cookie thought to check in on her. Could she and Darian have a future together? Perhaps, although she had a hard time envisioning what their life together would look like. How ironic! Of course, first they would have to survive the short term.

“I don’t know what the future will bring,” she said honestly. “But I want to try. I think that… if we can learn to talk out our worries and issues, and trust each other with our truths, we could have that future together.” Sheila settled herself next to him, and Darian wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulders. In the distance, next to one of the tents, she saw Tylan watching them, his expression thoughtful, before he turned and gave them their privacy. In fact, despite the bustle around them in the camp, it seemed that all of the other warriors and soldiers seemed to be intentionally giving them space, letting them have some private time together. Sheila rested her head on his shoulder and sighed in contentment. “I could get used to this,” she murmured.

“Me too.” He kissed the top of her hair and pulled her a little closer.

“I wish we didn’t have to leave for Ansar tonight.” Sheila could think of a few other things she’d rather be doing when the moon reached its peak, and none of them involved bouncing along on horseback headlong into danger.

“Laric needs us.”

“I know.” Sheila sighed again, this time with resignation. Her mind turned to thoughts of traveling with Darian and Tylan, wondering if Darian would be better behaved now that they’d had this talk. In the spirit of keeping the lines of communication open, she voiced her thoughts. “Will you be okay with working with Tylan on this mission?”

Darian didn’t answer at first, and Sheila tensed. He must have felt her reaction because he gave her a squeeze.

“I’ll do my best. He’s very skilled at getting under my skin.”

“I think that’s mainly because of the reactions you give him. He flirts with everyone, but I have a feeling that most of it’s a smokescreen.” Sheila caught a twinkle in Darian’s eye. “Uh oh, I can see you plotting…”

“Perhaps.” He grinned. She decided not to inquire, trusting Darian to deal with Tylan in his own way. Besides, she had other questions on her mind.

“Darian…”

“Yeah?”

“How are same-sex relationships viewed in your world? In mine… well, for a long time, people felt they had to hide. But more and more society is becoming more accepting. Many people live publicly normal lives with their partners. In many countries it’s now legal for same sex couples to get married. But there are still places where it’s illegal and people that think that it’s wrong. Some people have even become violent, despite it being a crime in my country to do so.”

“It’s not common here, but mostly it’s accepted in Arren. That is, it’s accepted for the middle and lower class. For those families that have concerns of family lineage and inheritance, like some of the royals and the aristocracy, they will not publicly acknowledge same-sex partners. Most often they will arrange marriages of convenience and turn a blind eye to matters of intimacy. Do you…” a line formed between his eyebrows “think it’s wrong?”

Sheila sat back, shocked.

“No, not at all.”

“You’re sure? Because I don’t regret my history of partners, Sheila.”

“Good, I’m glad. To be honest, I had more of a problem with the idea of you and Dian together. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with pursuing what feels right.” Sheila smiled, remembering some of her college exploits. “You know, I made out with a girl once, at a party last year.” Darian’s eyes widened. “Raina Miller. She was beautiful and had a great sense of humor.” Memories of Raina’s snarky sarcasm flooded her mind. After meeting one another and learning that Raina was visiting her cousin for the weekend, the two of them had quickly become thick as thieves, sharing a bottle of Jägermeister and finding endless sources of amusement in people watching. Sheila had felt pleasantly buzzed and high on laughter when Raina leaned over and kissed her. It was lovely, and Sheila decided to go with it. “She also had the softest lips…” Sheila recalled. “She went home the next day, and I never saw her again, but I often think about her.”

Darian shifted and Sheila noticed his arousal at her story. He blushed and tugged at his tunic, trying to camouflage the bump in the fabric. When that didn’t work, he pulled his knees towards his chest.

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

“It’s okay,” Sheila whispered in his ear. “I like that you like it. I felt the same way when you told me about you with the men in your barracks.”

Darian squelched groan and tried to take some deep breaths. Sheila could see the rapid pulse fluttering in his neck. 

“When we get back from this mission, you and I are going to spend some time alone in my tent,” he growled. Sheila’s eyes dilated at his deep commanding voice which seemed poised on the precipice of the edge of his patience.

“Looking forward to it, soldier,” Sheila flirted back as she prayed for a swift and successful journey to Ansar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy smokes! We've passed 50K words on this fic. Wow! 
> 
> I still don't have any idea how many chapters this story will be, but let me just foreshadow that based on my loose concepts about the direction of this story, that we are nowhere near the end at this point, so don't worry that we're nearing "the final battle" anytime soon. ***Spoilers ahead*** we will eventually be traveling to Perian, because that it definitely one place I *wished so hard* that the book series would cover, but never did. So, I'll be writing it to my liking. Yay! 
> 
> Also, I've started a map of the world, based on my interpretation of the series, and my own made-up places. Note: the series is inconsistent sometimes, so I've made some executive decisions regarding placement of some locations...
> 
> Thanks again for your support and patience! As always, feedback is encouraged! <3 


	10. Trouble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sheila, Darian, and Tylan travel to Ansar to rescue Laric.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay folks, some warnings are in order for this chapter. They include some spoilers, so read at your own discretion. *** This chapter includes character death and graphic violence. I promise it's not Sheila or Darian, but that's all I will reveal in this note. Also, it ends on a cliffhanger of sorts. Please don't hate me. This is what the voices in my head say must happen. ;-) 
> 
> As usual, no beta here, so please forgive any rogue typos that have survived my own self-proofing.

“I forgot how uncomfortable horses are compared to unicorns. I miss Wildwing already.” Darian winced as he eased himself off the mare he’d ridden to the gates of Ansar.

“Careful, horses having feelings too,” Sheila admonished, and Darian’s mare gave him a nip to prove her point.

“Oye! Alright, alright, I’m sorry, girl.” Darian ran a hand down her neck and the mare snorted in what, to Sheila, sounded like annoyance. Sheila heard Tylan’s laughter as he gracefully hopped down from his own mount.

“Your unicorn’s name is Wildwing?” Tylan cocked an eyebrow. “Very fitting.”

“How so?” Darian asked in a level tone. He was clearly making an effort to relate to Tylan in a less confrontational way, which Sheila appreciated.

“You, with your warrior energy, not to mention those biceps. You need a wild equine partner. Wildwing certainly fits the mold. Although…” Tylan held a thoughtful finger up to his chin. “I’d say you’re wilder.”

Darian blinked at Tylan, clearly not sure how to respond. Sheila decided to rescue him, as she noted Tylan’s dress and demeanor. Despite the fact that he’d changed from his courtly clothes into a more plebian tunic, like Sheila and Darian, Tylan still held himself with an air of superiority that screamed royalty.

“Ty… you’re going to need to slouch or mess up your hair or something if you don’t want to raise attention to yourself.” Sheila looked over to Darian. “Maybe we should rub some dirt on him? He’s… too clean looking.”

Of course, Tylan grasped onto the low-hanging fruit of a joke.

“Yes, Darian, come give me a good rub down.” Tylan winked and sidled closer to him.

To Sheila’s surprise, instead of getting flustered or angry, Darian stepped toward Tylan in an almost predatory way, scooping up a handful of road dirt as he approached the prince.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Ty, if I were to rub this all over your gorgeous body.” Sheila, fascinated, watched Tylan’s breath hitch at the unexpected come-on. Darian’s mouth curled into a wolfish grin. “We’d have to make sure to get it _everywhere_ just in case. Go ahead, undo the tie at your waist and I’ll be sure to do a _thorough_ job.”

Sheila’s breath came short at Darian’s low-pitched sexy proposal. So did Tylan’s, but he stood frozen in shock. After an eternal moment, Tylan quickly retreated and scooped some dirt off the ground into his own hand.

“I can handle it by myself, thank you,” he said in a strangled voice as he began to rub the dirt on his arms.

As Darian turned back toward Sheila, she could see the twinkle of amusement in his eyes. _Way to turn the tables!_ Sheila thought as she struggled to keep in a laugh.

As she turned around, her good humor was quickly dwarfed by the sight of the flat-topped mountain that towered over the city. She shivered at the memory of battling Dynasian and his men amidst the fortress’s _natural defenses._ Thank goodness for Dr. Reit arriving in the nick of time with sunglasses that saved them from being sun blind. Dr. Reit… A pang settled in her stomach and she pushed the thought of her old mentor away, instead choosing to peer with Darian at the open gates to Ansar which stood tall and proud beyond the crowds that slowly disappeared through them.

“I don’t see any guards.”

“After Laric placed the Sareen in charge of the city, they loosened many of the restrictions that Dynasian had set,” Darian mumbled as he studied a handwritten map of the Ansar which they’d acquired from a peddler on the road. “Okay, the harbor is here, to the south,” he pointed, “and we’re here to the east. It looks like the fastest way is through the marketplace and then the city square.”

Tylan joined them in looking at the map and pointed to a slightly different route.

“The marketplace is fine, but I’d avoid the city square. The Sareen have taken to using it as a place to punish rulebreakers. If they have anyone there currently, there’s bound to be an easily excitable crowd of onlookers. We wouldn’t want to take the chance of attracting the wrong kind of attention.”

“Agreed,” Darian said, his congenial tone surprising Sheila. It seemed that with his one moment of triumph over the prince, he’d tabled much of the animosity he’d been harboring. _Boys,_ she shook her head silently to herself, suddenly feeling a kindship to Hermione Granger. Ah, what she wouldn’t give to be at home, curled up with a good book right about now! Darian’s voice broke into her daydream. “What if we skirt around using this road here. It says it’s a row of eateries.”

Tylan nodded. “That will work, providing our stomachs don’t revolt at not stopping.” They’d been traveling half the night and hadn’t yet had breakfast. Sheila was sure that his diet since joining Illyria’s troop didn’t measure up to what he was accustomed to from palace living.

“No need for a revolt. Illyria gave me a few drachs. We can afford a quick meal on the go.”

“Thank the Goddess,” Tylan grinned, his face now charmingly dirty. “I was getting a little spent on your porridge, Wilder.”

Darian snorted at his new nickname, apparently not offended.

“Come on, Trouble,” Darian said, giving Tylan his own nickname. “We’ve got lots to accomplish today.” Tylan threw him a wry smile and swept an arm out.

“Lead the way, kind sir.”

~*~

Bright golden letters twinkled in the morning sun. The Princess Kaylani remained docked exactly where Sheila had see in her vision, although now dozens of workmen moved on and around the ship. Carpenters carried long wide boards of wood up the gangplank while others unloaded barrels of food and water from nearby carts, preparing to load them onto the ship. They couldn’t have asked for a more ideal situation to allow them to steal onto the ship.

“Once they start loading those supplies onto the ship, we can grab some and blend in with the others carrying items into storage. The men from the ship don’t know the suppliers and vice versa, so they’ll just assume we work for the other group.”

“That will work for you and Sheila,” Tylan agreed. “But my father’s men will recognize me in a heartbeat.”

Sheila watched the people milling around the boat and the pier area and excitedly nodded toward a group of men.

“But those men, the ones heating the tar that they’ll be using for the repairs, they have cloth tied around their faces to protect them from the fumes.”

“Good eye, Sheila!” Darian said and then started ripping a strip from the bottom of his travel worn tunic.

“You want me to put that on my face?” Tylan raised an eyebrow and Darian rolled his eyes.

“Suck it up, Trouble.” He thrust the dusty fabric at the prince, who accepted it gingerly between his thumb and forefinger. He stared at it in distain for a long moment, then sighed and tied it around his head, covering his nose and mouth with the offensive fabric.

“How’s that?” he said grumpily, his voice muffled slightly under the fabric. Sheila cocked a head and stared at him. His glossy raven hair was still pretty distinctive. She turned to Darian.

“Can you rip off another patch of fabric, about the same size?”

Darian’s brow creased in confusion, but he complied, quickly ripping off another piece and handing it to Sheila. She stepped up to Tylan and wrapped it around the top of his head and forehead, tying it tightly back, so that only a few wisps of his dark hair stuck out underneath.

“Perfect!” she declared in satisfaction.

“Nice!” Darian agreed. “Okay, you go grab one of the buckets of tar – without getting caught please – and Sheila and I will grab some of the other supplies. We’ll meet on the port side middle entrance to the lower decks.”

“Alright. But if you’re not there I won’t be able to dally. I’ll go below and we’ll have to find each other. It’s likely they’re keeping Laric in the lowest level in one of the central storage areas.”

With that, Tylan left them, heading in a roundabout way toward the men who were heating buckets of tar.

“Let’s go,” Darian said to Sheila as he took off toward one of the nearby carts, his stride exuding confidence. Sheila admired his backside for a moment before taking a deep breath and forcing herself to focus on the task at hand. Shortly after Darian heaved a bag of grain and headed toward the boat, Sheila reached another cart and loaded her arms with a dozen brooms that were bound together with twine.

“Hey!” a voice called from the other side of the cart and Sheila looked up, trying not to broadcast her panic. A middle-aged man stalked toward her with a scowl. “Those aren’t for the Princess Kaylani,” he growled as he yanked the brooms from her arms. “They wanted these instead.” He heaved a bundle of mops and dropped them into Sheila’s arms. When Sheila just stood there in shock, he barked, “Well don’t just stand there all day, girl, bring those to your shipmates.” Sheila nodded and scurried in retreat, heading for the ship with her heart beating nearly out of her chest. _Man, that was close!_ she thought to herself as she strode up the gangplank.

After dumping the mops into a pile of similar supplies, she headed toward the door that Darian had mentioned earlier. Darian was approaching it from the other side, and in moments they both ducked inside.

She felt momentarily blind, going from the bright daylight into the dim inner hallway, but she kept moving forward for fear of being discovered lingering. She found a stairwell nearby and headed downward, Darian close at her heels.

“Any sign of Ty?” she asked in a low voice.

“Not yet,” Darian whispered back as they wound their way through the hallways, checking doors along the way. If they were unlocked, they moved on without opening the door, assuming that Laric would be in a locked room.

As they turned another corner, they heard footsteps approaching from behind. Sheila and Darian pressed themselves into an indentation in the wall and waited. The footsteps slowed and stopped, then continued for a bit before slowing and stopping again. Taking a chance, Sheila whispered, “Ty?” The footsteps halted immediately, and Sheila held her breath. Had she just exposed their position for nothing? Spots danced in her eyes before she realized that she needed to breath.

“Mags?”

“Oh, thank God,” Sheila breathed letting her forehead drop against Darian’s back momentarily before pushing him off her and out into the hallway. “Any idea where they’d be keeping Laric?” she whispered to Tylan as he approached.

“There are a dozen or so storage rooms in this part of the ship. He’s bound to be in one of them based on your description.”

“We’ve checked all of the rooms coming from that direction,” Darian pointed.

“Good, only a few left then,” Tylan said as he swept past them and tried another door. When the latch lifted freely, he moved to the next door. Sheila started on the doors across the hall, and on the second try, she found one that was locked. As she stepped back, she noticed that the wood frame around the door was painted with dozens of strange symbols that she didn’t recognize. They reminded her of rune symbols from Earth.

“Ty!” she whisper-shouted. “Over here!” He quickly joined her and held up his hands to the door while muttering a spell. The symbols flashed blue as Sheila heard a metal click, and then the heavy door swung inward. A waft of the odor Sheila recalled from the previous day’s vision rolled over her and she grimaced at the smell.

“Laric…” Sheila called as she stepped inside the small storage room come cell. She stopped short. “I don’t understand… This looks exactly like the room I saw in my vision.” She stared at the filthy smears of hay where Laric had lain mere hours ago.

“Are you sure it was this room?” Darian looked around, assessing the space.

“Yes.” Sheila pointed to the large iron ring that lay bolted to the floor. “His shackles were tied to that.”

“Maybe he escaped…” Darian suggested, running a worried hand through his dark hair.

“Maybe…” Sheila said, but internally, her gut was screaming that there was something else going on here.

“I doubt it too, Mags,” Tylan said, picking up on Sheila’s body language. “If by some miracle he got out of his shackles, he would have likely left them here. If he didn’t, then we’d see more damage to the room and that ring. Also, the moment he tried to escape through the door, the glyphs would have warned the mages.”

“Maybe he used magic to escape?” Sheila sounded doubtful, even to herself.

“No, these glyphs,” Tylan ran his hand over the symbols that outlined the doorway, “Nullify all magic within the room while they’re active. And they were still active until a moment ago when I deactivated them.”

“In that case, how was Sheila able to remote view into the room?” Darian’s brow creased.

“I can only assume that it was because the _magic_ she did to view into the room was actually done back at camp.”

“Any ideas where they could have moved him?” Sheila asked, but Tylan confirmed her fears.

“He could be anywhere. On the ship or off. There’s no way to tell without risking discovery.”

“Fuck!” Sheila growled and kicked at some of the soiled hay, instantly regretting it as it stuck to her booted foot.

Tylan raised an eyebrow at the English word, and as Sheila took a breath to explain, he shook his head. “No need to translate, Mags. Frustration sounds the same in most languages.”

“Sheila…” Darian started hesitantly.

“Yeah?”

“Could you try to induce another vision to see where he is now?”

Sheila considered his question. She needed a quiet, safe place where they wouldn’t be disturbed. And even then, it was possible that Krondor had added additional protections against such a thing. Without Micula’s support, it seemed too risky to try. Sheila said as much to Darian and Tylan and they agreed but looked none too happy about it.

“And waiting until we get back to camp will take too long,” Darian added.

“There is one thing I can try…” Tylan said hesitantly, which was odd, as he normally sounded almost pathologically self-assured.

“What?” Sheila was open to pretty much any idea at the moment. They were low on options, and anything that would get them away from this dingy cell sounded good to her.

Tylan disappeared into the hall without a word and returned moments later with a broom. He turned it upside down and used the point of the handle to roughly sketch the shape of the ship into the muck on the floor. He created three sketches, one for the top deck, and the other two for the two lower decks.

“I know a spell that maps the presence of magical signatures. We won’t be able to tell the difference between my father’s mages and your king, but perhaps we can tell based on the location and proximity to others…”

Sheila and Darian nodded, both looking hopeful as Tylan began his incantation. In addition to his words, he also moved his hands and fingers in a complicated pattern. As he uttered the final word, about twenty glowing dots appeared on the makeshift map.

“It worked!” Sheila said excitedly. She leaned over and observed the results more closely. “Where are we in relation to this map?”

Tylan pointed to the bottom-level map, nearly dead center where two of the brightest dots were. “That’s you.” He pointed to the brightest dot on the map. “And that’s me.” His dot was slightly dimmer, but still outshone the others on the map by a lot.

“Why are some brighter?” Darian asked as he too inspected the map. “And where’s mine?”

“The brightness is based on magical power. The stronger the magic, the brighter they appear. Those that don’t have any inherent magic don’t show up,” he said, watching Darian carefully, as if cautious of whether he’d be offended at being told that he had no magic. Darian merely nodded thoughtfully.

“So Sheila is the most powerful out of everyone on this ship?” The corner of Darian’s mouth quirked. “Even more powerful than you…”

Sheila stared at the map, dumfounded.

“But I don’t know anything…”

“Innate power has little to do with skill,” Tylan explained, then turned to Sheila. “It does mean, though, that once you have more training, you’ll be a force to be reckoned with.”

Sheila swallowed hard, remembering what Krondor’s witch friend said to her the day prior… _you, dear girl, your potential is nearly unfathomable… Once you really embrace your true power, you will make a great impact on this world…_

But she didn’t have time to ponder her destiny at the moment. They had a king to find. She looked down at the map at the other glowing dots. Now that she really examined them, she realized that they glowed faintly different colors. There seemed to be a number of reds, blues, and greens. Tylan’s was purple, and hers was a pure white. She noticed two others that seemed odd. One was a vibrant gold color, while the other… it could be argued wasn’t a light at all. It, rather, absorbed the light around it, so appeared like a spherical void on the map.

Tylan must have noticed Sheila’s puzzled inspection of the map. First, he pointed to the dark area. “That’s a mage pledged to the Underworld, to the dark. All of my father’s mages have primary affiliations with either the sun, earth, or moon – he pointed to the red, green, and blue orbs. He would never tolerate one pledged to the Underworld.”

In a flash, remembering Serena’s vision, Sheila knew who it was.

“Mardock…,” she whispered.

“Dynasian’s pet wizard. Yes, that would make sense.”

“So, is the gold light Laric?” Darian asked.

“I’ve never seen that color before. It doesn’t match the normal affiliations,” Tylan stared at the map in confusion. “But it must be…”

“It is!” Sheila said excitedly, putting aside her troubled feelings about being on the same ship as her old nemesis. “Darian, think about it. That color – the gold – it’s the exact color that Laric and his men turn as they transform from men into eagles and back again!”

“You’re right!”

Sheila saw that he was being held on the floor above, heading toward the stern of the ship. “Well, let’s go get him.” Sheila rose and started to the door, but Tylan grabbed her arm.

“Wait!”

“What?” Sheila and Darian said at the same time.

“That part of the ship… that’s where my father’s state room is. And look at all of the mages in that area.” He pointed and Sheila felt her hope die as she saw that he was right. The golden ball was surrounded by nearly a dozen red, blue, and green lights. “Sheila, there’s no way we’ll be able to get in there undetected. And this also begs the question – why would my father move him to his rooms while he’s away unless he suspected that you were not telling him the truth?”

“If he planned for that… then he might not even have traveled to Nolad this morning.” A pit of dread yawed in Sheila’s gut.

“He’d not here. I can tell,” Tylan reassured her.

“How?”

“The brightness of these mages… all medium level. My father’s light would be… distinct. He’s definitely not on this ship.”

The tension in Sheila’s shoulders loosened slightly, but something was still niggling at her. Even though she’d had her shields up tightly all day, something deep inside her felt that something was off. She felt nearly compelled to check on Illyria.

“Guys, let’s get off this ship and find a quiet place to regroup.”

“If we leave now, we won’t get another opportunity to get back on the ship any time soon,” Darian argued.

“I realize that, but I’m telling you, Darian, I don’t know why, but… I have to check on your sister…” She bit her lip. The feeling was getting stronger with each second they wasted arguing. In fact, the intensity was rising so quickly that suddenly she knew that she wouldn’t make it off the boat in time before she was overwhelmed by a vision. Something was dissolving her shields like they were made of crepe paper. She groaned at a sharp pain in her temple and fell to her knees, landing with a painful thud on the dirty floor. “Keep an eye out,” she managed to say to Tylan as Darian dropped worriedly beside her. “This vision is coming whether I like it or not,” she croaked as the dim room fell away and she found herself floating in the middle of a lovely green field. It looked familiar, and Sheila realized immediately why as she saw their tents nearby.

“Mommy!” cried a young voice shredded with agony.

~*~

Sheila peered all around, trying to figure out where the call had come from. In the distance, she caught movement through the trees, so she willed her consciousness to that location. In an instant, she was there. The rapid change disoriented her, but she quickly recovered and watched the scene before her in shocked horror.

Illyria lay unconscious on the forest floor, blood flowing at an alarming pace out of a large ragged gash that ran from her temple down to her chin. Next to her prone body lay several dead mages, while Quiet Storm stood, sides heaving, with blood dripping down his horn. He, too, had been severely wounded, but stood battle-ready, facing his next opponents.

Mage Karissa held a kicking and screaming Serena while Krondor stood facing the unicorn, murmuring an incantation. Quiet Storm began to charge at him, but reared up at the last minute, his hoofs sparking off the protection field Krondor had just cast.

Serena’s young body began to glow with power and Mage Karissa cried out, dropping the girl. Serena landed on her feet, nimble as a cat, and began running away as fast as her tiny legs could carry her. Mage Karissa began angrily uttering another spell directed at the girl. Sheila saw a flash of movement from the trees, and Mage Karissa’s incantation was suddenly cut off with a gasp and a gurgle. Sheila felt nauseous at the sight of Moonbeam’s horn piercing the woman’s chest from behind.

“Karissa!” Krondor cried, grief showing for a microsecond before it was replaced with fury.

What happened next seemed to occur in slow motion to Sheila’s eyes. She knew that in years to come she would always wonder if she should have tried to intervene, even if the cost was her own life…

Krondor uttered the same spell that Tylan had used during their escape from the castle, only this time, when he slashed his hand down, the cutting spell sliced cleanly through the base of Moonbeam’s horn, sending the screaming yearling to her knees. At the same moment, Sheila saw Serena crumple to the ground, landing with an almost inaudible woosh onto the lush forest floor. It was as if her energy were connected to the injured unicorn, who lay dying at the feet of the mage she’d just mortally wounded.

Krondor muttered another spell and the horn that protruded through Karissa’s chest began to glow brighter and brighter. In a flash that would have blinded Sheila’s corporeal eyes, the horn disappeared, and in its place, a fully healed Mage Karissa stared down in shock at her repaired body.

Krondor swept her up in an embrace and buried his head in her hair. She clung to him for a long moment before he pulled back, inspecting her for any lingering injury.

“How do you feel?” he asked, his voice rough with untold emotion.

“I’m… fine…,” she said in amazement, patting a hand over her torn and bloody robe. With another wave of the hand and incantation, the robe knitted together and the blood beaded off and fell to the ground, staining the leaves and twigs beneath her feet. She looked up sharply, suddenly remembering their mission. “The girl…” Karissa followed Krondor’s gaze toward the unconscious child. At the sight of her, she relaxed, then tensed again at the sight of Quiet Storm raging against the invisible barrier.

Sheila knew that she’d never be able to get the sounds of Quiet Storm’s gut-wrenching braying out of her mind. The moment Krondor had severed Moonbeam’s horn, the unicorn stallion went berserk, charging the forcefield repeatedly, so hard that he must have been further injuring himself.

“Let’s get the girl and get out of here,” Krondor said with labored breath. He nodded toward Quiet Storm. “That one is strong, and I won’t be able hold the shield indefinitely.” He glanced down at Moonbeam, who lay on the ground nearby barely breathing, and Sheila thought she caught a flicker of regret in his eyes.

Karissa nodded, taking a deep breath, then walked over and scooped Serena off the ground. Krondor helped her lift the child onto her horse. When all three were astride their mounts, they picked their way toward the edge of the woods and took off at a gallop.

The moment Krondor, Karissa, and Serena were gone, the shield that was holding Quiet Storm back dissolved, and the unicorn stumbled forward toward Moonbeam. He fell to his knees beside the dying filly and let out another wounded cry.

Sheila watched, helpless as Quiet Storm grieved over the dying unicorn. She’d never seen Quiet Storm so crazed, even when he’d been nearly possessed by evil magic long ago. Now he was inconsolable, making noises that sounded like weeping as he rubbed his bloody muzzle repeatedly over Moonbeam’s, as if trying to urge her to her feet. But Moonbeam could only flutter her eyes open as her breath labored and she weakly nuzzled him in return. Sheila felt her heart cracking in her chest at the mournful sight.

Then, suddenly, the wind picked up, and Quiet Storm stilled. The clouds shifted and Sheila could see the faint moon low in the daytime sky. Quiet Storm lifted the gaze of his heavily lashed eyes first to the moon and then over to Illyria. He whickered at the unconscious woman, and Sheila couldn’t say how she knew, but something deep within her sensed that Quiet Storm was saying farewell to the Unicorn Queen. Then he elegantly dipped his horn down until the tip touched the wound on Moonbeam’s head. The connection point began to glow brighter and brighter until Sheila couldn’t see beyond the blinding silvery glow that joined the two unicorns.

 _No!_ Sheila called out silently with her mind.

Instantly, she sensed, rather than heard a reply. The message had no audible voice, but it was clear, regardless. _Yes, seer. I must. Someday when you sire a young one you’ll understand. Please look after my loves. The Goddess will watch over you, and so shall I. They all need you more than you know…_

And then, Sheila experienced something that she’d never experienced before: a vision within a vision. Within the bright light between Quiet Storm and Moonbeam, she saw herself atop a strangely angled and rocky mountain top. _Her arms were splayed out, her head tilted to the sky, and rays of magical light beamed out of her eyes, mouth, and fingers. She brought her hands together in a thunderous clap that rocked the very foundation of the mountain. The rock beneath her feet crumbled, but instead of falling, she floated up, pulling the crumbling earth into a swirling storm, a granite tornado of stone with her at the epicenter._

Suddenly the light faded, along with the vision. Sheila sobbed as she saw Moonbeam, whole once again, struggling upright onto her silver cloven hooves. A golden spiral stood tall and proud on her forehead as she gazed down at the still form of Quiet Storm that lay unmoving on the ground. She stumbled forward, like a colt just birthed, and slowly approached Quiet Storm’s body. She lowered her head and licked at his face, then nuzzled the raw wound where his horn used to be. As the faint daytime moon slipped behind the clouds, Moonbeam tilted her horn to the sky and let out a battle cry that sent vibrations through Sheila’s very soul.

~*~

Sheila jolted back into her body, sending the energy of the vision reflexively down into the wood of the boat beneath her feet, then leaned over and threw up.

“Sheila! Are you okay?” Darian asked, frantically.

“What did you see?” Tylan looked worried.

Sheila lifted her tear-stained face to both men. It took several tries before she could manage to relay most of the story except for the vision with a vision that came at the end. That was something to be riddled out after the immediate crisis was dealt with.

All color had fled Darian’s face, and at the mention of the spell Krondor had used against Moonbeam, Tylan looked like he, too, was going to be sick. As she described Quiet Storm’s last moment, Darian’s face twisted in agony, and Tylan’s eyes looked suspiciously wet. Sheila pulled Darian close, holding him through his moment of grief. He pulled back after just a few indulgent moments of comfort and straightened his shoulders.

“We need to go.”

“Agreed,” Tylan said, “but do we return to camp to help Illyria, or stay here in hopes to face my father upon his return, and try to save Serena?”

It was an impossible choice, and Sheila could see the indecision in Darian’s eyes.

“Darian, there’s no way we can fight off Krondor and all of his mages here, with just the three of us. He obviously knew that we’d set a trap, so he’ll be expecting us to be here. The element of surprise is no longer on our side,” she reasoned.

“Karissa must have been with the group pursuing us from the castle, and arrived last night in time to tell him what happened.” Tylan looked grim.

“I would bet that neither of them have any idea yet regarding whether you are truly captive or not.” Sheila placed a consoling hand on his arm.

“Well, if we don’t get out of here soon, the truth will no longer be a secret,” Darian sighed. “Okay, let’s get back to camp and regroup with the others.” Darian left unsaid what they were all thinking: _and see if Illyria is still alive…_

~*~

Luck must have been on their side, because they made it safely off the ship and out of the city without discovery. If it weren’t for Sheila’s vision, she might have said that this had been the tamest mission that she’d ever been on in this realm. But the vision was real and, she knew, in real time.

Sheila ached over the possibilities of what awaited them just over the ridge on the horizon. She gripped the reigns of a galloping Thunder and leaned forward, urging the stallion faster. Darian and Tylan did the same, although she could see Darian’s knuckles had turned white as he held onto his own leather straps tightly. She could tell he was trying to tamp down his worry over his family but was holding on by the merest of threads. With Quiet Storm gone, Serena and Laric kidnapped, and Illyria seriously injured, Sheila could only imagine the depth of his angst. And they wouldn’t know until they crested that ridge as to whether Illyria’s wounds were recoverable. Sheila didn’t want to consider the terrible alternative, so she urged Thunder even faster. The horse seemed to understand and put on a burst of speed that he must have been holding in reserve.

Within minutes, Sheila and Thunder burst into the field by the forest where the attack had taken place. At the edge of the trees, she brought Thunder to a stop and dropped down to the ground, then rushed toward where she’d seen the action.

“Illyria!” she called, looking frantically for the woman. She heard Tylan and Darian’s horses approaching and Darian’s own calls for his sister.

Sheila found several signs of blood, but no bodies. She wasn’t sure if she felt more relieved or worried.

“Sheila!” Darian called.

Sheila trotted to the edge of the woods and saw several of Laric’s men, as well as Myno approaching Darian and Tylan with grim expressions. Sheila sprinted to join them and reached the horses in time to catch Darian’s fervent words.

“Don’t try to spare me, Myno. Will she live?”

“When have I ever minced words, Darian?” she said gruffly. “I told you, we don’t know. Pelu is very worried, and Micula is doing everything she can to help. The only thing we can do is leave them to their work and pray to the Goddess that Illyria finds the strength to survive her injuries.”

Darian looked up helplessly at the sky and took a centering breath. Sheila wanted to comfort him, but after their breakneck ride from Ansar, the adrenaline coursing through her veins wouldn’t let her settle enough to be a comfort to anyone. In fact, she felt like she needed to be doing something, helping in some way.

“How did you know she was injured?” Cam asked as he took the reins of Darian’s horse as he dismounted.

“Sheila had a vision. She saw Krondor’s attack, so we came back as fast as we could.”

Myno looked up sharply at Sheila.

“Did he take Serena?”

Sheila nodded with a frown.

“Yeah, he did.” Remembering how hard Serena fought put a small smile on her lips. “She fought them as hard as she could, though. She’ll be quite the warrior sorceress when she gets older.” Sheila debated on saying her next words, but ultimately felt they were better shared than kept to herself. “I have a feeling that Krondor knows it and wants to harness that power for himself,” she said, feeling safe to reveal at least that much. Unless absolutely necessary, she wouldn’t break her promise to Illyria to keep Serena’s talent with the unicorns a secret.

“Oh send me to the fiery pits of the underworld,” Tylan swore in a low voice. Sheila whipped her head around at his tone.

“What?”

Tylan took a deep breath and moved to rake his hand through his hair, but upon encountering the makeshift headband that Sheila had put on him earlier, he slid it off and crumpled the fabric in his fist.

“One of the last things my father said to me in our… _discussion_ … before he left the castle was that he was going to find me a bride worthy of my station.”

Sheila’s brow creased as her brain refused to process what he said, but at the pure fury on Darian’s face, the reality hit her like a blow to the stomach.

“She’s only six years old!” Darian cried, grabbing the front of Tylan’s shirt.

“I know!” Tylan gripped Darian’s fists in his own and looked at him with pleading eyes. “Come on, Darian, you can’t believe that I would want any part of that! I may be a deviant according to my father’s standards, but even I draw the line at something like that.” The two men stared at each other, and eventually Darian’s shoulders dropped and he released Tylan.

“Glad to know you have some standards,” he said begrudgingly. Sheila could feel his frustration at having a full head of steam and now nowhere to release it.

“Believe it or not, my father also does.” At Sheila’s incredulous look, he continued, “To a certain degree. He would never expect me to marry a child. I assume he would hold her until she’s of age to marry, and then it would happen. He wouldn’t care if there was a huge age gap between us like there was between him and my mother.” Tylan’s bitterness at that last statement was not lost on Sheila.

“Well, regardless of his long-term plans, he has her and we need to come up with a plan to save her,” Cam said, his calmness helping Sheila to refocus.

“I say we ride hard to Ansar and storm his ship,” Myno said hotly. “The element of surprise will be on our side.”

“He’ll be long gone by the time we get there,” Tylan said with a wave of his hand.

“Like we should accept the word of Krondor’s son!” Myno growled, her hand moving to the sword hilt at her hip.

Sheila was about to come to Tylan’s defense, but to her surprise she didn’t have to. Darian did it for her.

“He’s right, Myno. They loaded up their supplies today and did some major repairs to the ship. Unless Krondor is a complete fool, and it would be folly to think so, he’ll set sail the moment he steps foot back on the Princess Kaylani.”

“To Perian?” Cam asked.

Darian looked at Tylan, who nodded.

“Unless his plans have changed, he was always planning to travel to Perian.”

Myno scoffed.

“Well, that will be a short journey.”

“Myno…” Darian said with a warning tone.

“What? It’s true. He can use every spell in his bag of tricks and he still won’t find it.”

“What are you talking about?” Sheila asked, frustrated. This wasn’t the first time they’d made confusing comments about getting to Perian.

Myno shared a look with Darian and Cam, who remained tightlipped.

“Are you kidding me?” Sheila yelled. “This is no time to keep me in the dark!”

“Settle down, Mags. I’m sure that it’s me they don’t trust. So, on that note, I’m going to seek out your healer friends and see if there’s anything I can do magically to help your queen.” Without a backward look, he took off toward the healing tent. Sheila could see the tension in his shoulders, and she didn’t blame him. She was going to get some answers whether they wanted to give them to her or not.

In her periphery, she saw Cam nod at one of his men to follow Tylan. Ignoring that, Sheila turned to Darian and Myno.

“So? What’s this secret about getting to Perian?” She had zero patience left, and when Myno stubbornly refused to answer, Sheila found herself struggling not to hit her. Trying the path of least resistance, she turned to Darian and stared him down.

After a long moment, he sighed and stepped closer to Sheila so that she could hear his lowered voice.

“The only way to get to Perian is by sea to the east, and it is a very specific route. It took many years, but eventually, with Mardock’s help, Dynasian charted the way to Perian, and infiltrated their lands.”

“He killed Laric’s father…” Sheila recalled.

“Yes, and he ruled Perian from afar for a short while, but as you know, we defeated him, and the rule of Perian reverted to Laric.”

“So, what? Are you saying that Krondor is just looking for the route to Perian so he can attack?” Sheila felt like she wasn’t connecting the dots yet.

“Yes, and no.” When Sheila raised an eyebrow, Darian held up a hand. “Let me finish, please.” Mollified, Sheila nodded. “We assume he wants to attack Perian, like he did Campora. And yes, we believe he’s looking for the route to know where to send his warships. But what he doesn’t know is that Laric and Micula, with the help of some powerful sorcerers from Perian, have put up magical protections to prevent travelers from finding Perian even if they know the route.”

“Oh,” Sheila said, processing that new information. “Are you sure he doesn’t know?”

“Well, by now he knows there’s something preventing him from locating Perian. He’s sent many ships before, and all of them have returned unsuccessful. We believe that’s why he took Laric, to force him to reveal how to overcome those protections.”

“But Laric would never betray his people like that,” Myno added, her chin thrust up with pride.

“Not normally,” Darian said. “But he will now.”

Sheila felt sick because she knew Darian was right. Myno looked confused, so Sheila added in the missing piece of the puzzle for her.

“Because he would do anything to protect his little girl.”

It was hard to feel gratified at the look of understanding and horror in Myno’s eyes, but part of Sheila felt glad that she wasn’t alone in her feelings about the situation.

“Okay… so let’s assume that he’s going to cooperate with Krondor and show him how to enter Perian… it seems to me that our best move is to secure a ship of our own and make our way there as quickly as possible so that we can rescue them once they arrive. I don’t think risking a rescue at sea is a good idea.” Sheila looked at Darian, hoping that they were in sync on this.

“I agree,” Darian said. “Plus, we know we’ll have support and allies in Perian. Krondor will be the outlaw with the odds stacked against him there.” He looked to Cam. “Can you have Gebart and Atmar fly to Ansar to secure a ship for us? And then we’ll need one of them to fly ahead to Perian to warn them that Krondor is coming.”

“I’ll send Basel ahead to Perian right away, so that we don’t lose time waiting for Gebart and Atmar to return.” Cam made a hand gesture to one of the nearby soldiers, which prompted him to trot off, presumably to gather the requested men.

“I wonder if Illyria will be well enough to travel…” Sheila said softly.

“If she’s conscious, then Goddess help anyone who tries to stand in her way,” Darian said gravely.

~*~

While Darian and Cam talked to Gebart, Atmar, and Basel, Sheila headed toward the healing tent. Her stomach churned with dread at what she might see when she entered, but she pushed on, knowing that if she could help in any way that she must.

On her walk to the tent, she saw the other warriors standing, shellshocked, around the body of Quiet Storm. They must have moved him from the forest and cleaned the blood from his coat. He lay on a bed of leaves and branches, and if it weren’t for his missing horn, he might have looked like he was merely sleeping. Kara wept as she lay a bundle of wildflowers at his head, obscuring the wound. One by one, the others lay their own bundles of flowers at his head, forming a floral horn for his final repose.

Sheila’s breath hitched at the sight and she blinked back the tears that threatened. While part of her ached to join them, she didn’t have time for that. Her queen needed her help. Grieving would have to come later.

Fortified by her purpose, she ducked inside the tent and took a deep breath as her eyes adjusted to the dim light inside. Illyria lay unconscious on a cot, her skin ashen except for the bright red jagged wound that ran down her face. Pelu and Jahnus stood back, arm in arm, as Micula and Tylan stood over the prone queen with their hands gripping each of Illyria’s hands, sending some sort of healing energy to her. Both Micula and Tylan whispered the same foreign words in sync with one another.

Sheila couldn’t help but feel responsible for this. Clearly she hadn’t been convincing enough for Krondor. He’d seen through her ruse, and now Quiet Storm was dead, Illyria was dying, and Serena was God knew where. Sheila swore to herself that she would do whatever it took to make this as right as she could.

Unable to sit back and watch, Sheila approached Pelu and whispered, “Is the magic helping?”

Pelu’s distraught expression didn’t provide any comfort as she shrugged.

“The injury on her face looks slightly better than it did when we first found her, but there’s something else… some sort of magical spell that’s syphoning her life force. Micula’s been chanting like this for nearly an hour. Hopefully, Prince Tylan’s added magic will help turn the tide…” Sheila heard the unspoken concern in the tone of the normally optimistic woman.

“Tylan…” Sheila stepped up beside him. He opened his eyes and looked at Sheila while he continued to chant. “I want to help.”

He continued chanting for a moment until he reached the end of the words they had been repeating over and over. After gently lowering Illyria’s hand and releasing it, Tylan turned to speak with Sheila.

“Have you ever done any healing magic or counterspells?”

Sheila bit her lip and shook her head. Her entire experience so far included spells of protection, her shield, and the magic surrounding her visions and remote viewing. She said as much to Tylan and he frowned.

“Well perhaps you can simply ground yourself and lend your energy to the healing process while Micula and I work to focus our collective energy to breaking my father’s spell.”

Sheila was willing to do whatever it took, so she nodded.

“Just tell me what to do.”

After appearing to think for a moment, he gestured toward the top end of the cot.

“Go stand at her head and ground yourself. Once you feel grounded, lay your hands on her and focus on sending general healing energy into her body. If it helps, great. If it doesn’t, your positive intentions shouldn’t hinder our work.”

Sheila nodded, already moving to stand above the blood-stained cloud of Illyria’s hair.

“But Sheila…” Tylan had never looked so serious. “You must be careful not to give too much.”

“How will I know?” Her nerves jangled at the notion of doing magic that she’d never practiced. Why was it always trial by fire in this land?

“If you start to feel weak, pull away immediately.”

“Okay.” She took a deep breath and shored up her courage. She could do this, she thought to herself.

Sheila stepped into position and lay the palms of her hands at Illyria’s temples. Grounding to the dirt below her feet and the sky above came quicker than ever, and she felt the hot river of nature’s magic coursing through her entire body. It was as if the elements were reaching out to help. She swallowed against the power that thrummed through her as Tylan joined Micula once again in her chanting.

As Sheila closed her eyes to focus, a new wave of comprehension flooded her. It was like a new window of perception had just been thrown open. In her mind’s eye, she saw the scene within the tent, including herself standing at Illyria’s head, but she also saw the flow of magic. Tendrils of green energy flowed from Pelu and Jahnus toward Illyria, joining the energy that Micula and Tylan funneled into their healing. While Pelu and Jahnus’s contributions were akin to a trickling brook, Micula and Tylan’s were like a rushing river – Micula’s energy a sparkling cobalt blue and Tylan’s the same deep violet that Sheila’s had seen earlier when he’d conjured his makeshift map. Their magic flowed not only from their hands which held Illyria’s, but from their entire bodies.

Their energy traveled toward and flowed around a glowing white sphere of energy that lay in Illyria’s chest where her heart was located. Sheila couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Her focus in her mind’s eye darted around the room and she noticed that everyone, including herself had a glowing white sphere in their chest area. However, as her attention focused back on Illyria, she noticed that hers was covered in what looked like thorny black writhing vines. The vines seemed to be growing and squeezing and absorbing the white energy at Illyria’s chest.

Each time Micula and Tylan reached the same point in their chanting, right before the verse started over, their energy would pulse brighter, and the vines would shrink back for the merest of moments before regaining their upper hand while Micula and Tylan began their chanting once again. Sheila could see now that their efforts as-is would ultimately fail. Something more needed to be done. Perhaps her added magical energy would help, as Tylan had suggested.

Frightened yet determined, Sheila felt for the white-hot elemental energy that was thrumming within her body and directed it toward Illyria, asking for its help in healing the woman, in battling the dark energy that was trying to kill her. Sheila felt a burning sensation in her palms as the magic flowed through her and into Illyria where Sheila cradled her queen’s head. Sheila’s pulse pounded in her ears as she held her breath and watched to see the results of her added magic.

The vines shrank further than they had from just Micula and Tylan’s magic, but they were still stubbornly regrowing each time the chanting cycle restarted. Sheila swore under her breath as sweat beaded on her brow. They weren’t going to win this way.

She pulled her hands back and looked up at Micula and Tylan, who were both looking tired and pale from their efforts.

“Stop,” she commanded.

Both Tylan and Micula finished their latest round of chanting, then opened their eyes and stared at Sheila, who could see that their desperation for new ideas trumped any possible annoyance at being interrupted.

“This isn’t working. It’s… it’s going to win if we don’t try something else.”

Micula’s eyes widened a fraction.

“What do you see?” Her throaty voice was cautious.

Sheila explained this odd new sight she had upon closing her eyes, and the horrid vines that strangled Illyria’s energy center. As she explained, Sheila walked over to where Tylan was standing, and moved her hand over Illyria’s chest where the light was fighting to survive. Feeling something odd, Sheila closed her eyes and waved her hand over the area again. With her new sight, she saw the vines shrink back as if unable to stand the proximity of her hand.

“Tylan, wave your hand where I just did…” Sheila said with excitement, an idea starting to brew in her mind. He did as she asked and the vines shifted a little but had nowhere near the same electric response. “Micula, you too.” Micula warily did as requested, and the reaction was the same. “It must be me…” Sheila waved her hand again and the magical vines shrank back. Unfortunately, the moment she moved away, they returned. “I need to pull them…” she mumbled.

“What?” Tylan’s brow furrowed. “Sheila, be careful…”

“Sheila, let’s discuss this before you try something new,” Micula said gravely.

Deep within her own thoughts, she ignored the warnings from Tylan and Micula. Sheila knew there wasn’t time for a lengthy debate on the matter. She couldn’t say how, but she just knew what she needed to do. She needed to pull the offending vines into herself where they would not be able to thrive, and she had to do it now.

Sheila raised her other hand so that both of her palms lay over Illyria’s heart, and she used the magic coursing through her body to reach out and pull. With her mind she projected the intention of pulling all of Krondor’s lingering magic into herself. At first it resisted, but Sheila refused to give up. Eyes closed, she pulled with all her mental might, despite the muffled calls of alarm from Tylan and Micula. It was working, she could feel the dark tendrils flowing up her arms. They writhed and screamed in her mind as they encountered her strange energy. The magic fought with incredible strength, but Sheila stubbornly kept pulling.

She knew that the darkness could not abide within her light, but that didn’t mean it was going to leave without a fight. Suddenly, Sheila felt like her body was on fire as pain lanced every nerve ending. Vaguely she registered that someone was screaming, and soon realized that the sound was coming from her own mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **ducks and avoids oncoming projectiles**  
> So... question for y'all... do you think that I should set the flag for "Major Character Death" on this story? I've been waffling. Let me know what you think. 
> 
> More to come as my muse cooperates! :)


	11. Sea of Magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein we find out what happened to Sheila after last chapter's cliffhanger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all - first, my apologies regarding how long it took me to write this chapter and how short it is. That is, it's not short per se - it's almost 6K words - but it's shorter than most of my other chapters. This chapter... well, it dictated the length. I just work here. ;-) 
> 
> In all seriousness, I had some serious writer's block going on, and while I could continue trying to perfect this stubborn chapter, I've decided in the interest of moving forward to just post it, perfection be damned. Hopefully that's cool with y'all. Enjoy!

Sheila felt pressure on her back and legs and the back of her head… then an ease of the pressure… and then the pressure returned. Her clouded mind couldn’t make sense of it. She lay still for a long while, and as her mind cleared, she realized that the pressure was the sensation of the rise and fall of lying on something floating on water. A boat. No… bigger. She was on a ship. She was lying on a slightly cushioned surface on a ship.

Her senses returned slowly one by one, like someone turning on tiny light switches in her nervous system. She heard of muffled voices, not in this room, but in one nearby. Two people were arguing while a third was calm and, Sheila assumed, trying to be a voice of reason. The words were unintelligible, but the tones were clear.

Everything was shrouded in darkness. No… her eyes were closed. Could she open them? It seemed too much to consider at the moment. Everything within her body ached, and she mentally flinched as she became aware of the sharper pains in her head and hands.

“Mmmmm…,” she moaned as she tried to regain the connection to her body.

Pain shot up her arm as something squeezed her injured hand.

“Sheila?” Darian’s voice called as if from a great distance.

“Aaaaahhhh….” Sheila heard the pain in her broken voice as it tried to emote through her shredded vocal cords. The agony of fire in her throat added to her mounting list of injuries. Thankfully, however, Darian released her hand and at least that source of discomfort faded to a tolerable throb.

She tried with all her might to open her eyes. At first nothing happened, but she refused to give up. Eventually she found herself blinking back tears as the modest light from the cabin’s single window blinded her.

“Oh, Goddess, Sheila!” Darian cried as he smoothed back her hair.

“Dar-“ she croaked, but again, her vocalization was halted by the pain in her throat.

“Pelu!” Darian called, and eventually – Sheila couldn’t tell how long it took, as her sense of time eluded her – Pelu entered the small room. “She’s awake, but she’s having trouble speaking,” Darian said with concern.

“That’s because she damaged the inside of her throat screaming. But I have just the thing for that.”

Sheila lay still and watched as Pelu pulled a number of herbs from a satchel at her waist and began mixing them with water into a small wooden cup.

“You gave us all quite a scare,” she said unhappily. Then she held the cup up to Sheila’s lips as she elevated her head. Thank goodness she was doing all the work. Sheila didn’t think she could lift it on her own if she tried. “Take small sips of this until it’s gone,” she ordered.

Sheila did as instructed, grimacing at the taste, but trusting in Pelu’s gift of healing. Her trust was swiftly affirmed as a soothing warm sensation replaced the burning agony. She could almost feel the tissue in her throat slowly repairing itself. Once the cup was empty, she looked up at Pelu and Darian’s concerned faces.

“Illyr-“ she started, but Pelu placed a hand over her mouth.

“No talking. Give the medicine a chance to work, Sheila.”

Sheila shifted her pleading gaze to Darian, who thankfully knew what Sheila was asking.

“She’s okay. You saved her,” he said, but his unhappy eyes told her there was more to the story. Sheila reached up where his hand was gently rubbing her hairline and gave him a squeeze, willing him to give her more information. Her hand throbbed at the gesture, but she didn’t give the pain any attention. She had to know what happened and what state Illyria was in. Were her efforts successful or did Sheila damage herself for nothing?

Darian looked at Pelu for a long moment, sharing a silent communication. Eventually Pelu looked down at Sheila.

“I’m going to leave you two alone for a moment, but you are under orders not to speak at all. You can listen only. Got it?”

Sheila nodded slightly, feeling faint at the additional wave of pain and nausea the small movement caused. Pelu nodded back, then left the room, closing the door behind her. Sheila looked back at Darian expectantly. He sat heavily on a stool next to her and began smoothing her hair again as he started to talk.

“You definitely broke the spell on Illyria. Micula said that her life force is safe now. The injury on her face will heal, but Jahnus and Pelu agree that it… will scar…” Darian looked at Sheila, then looked away. When he didn’t speak for several minutes, Sheila made a grunt of impatience. It didn’t count as talking if she didn’t say any actual words, right?

Darian sighed and turned back to her.

“Shortly after you took the magic into yourself and passed out, Illyria regained consciousness. I told her immediately about our trip to Ansar and your vision, and our plan to travel to Perian to rescue Laric and Serena. The thing is… she hasn’t spoken a word since she woke up. Micula assures us that it is not due to a magical malady. She believes that it’s simply the stress of losing Serena and Laric, and that she’ll speak when she’d ready. Regardless, though, she’s been able to travel with us. She participates in chores, meal prep, and caring for her new horse.” Darian’s voice caught at the mention of Illyria riding someone other than Quiet Storm. “She just refuses to speak, so Myno and Nanine are sharing leadership at the moment.” He sounded unhappy at that. Sheila realized that the arguing voices she’d heard when she’d first awakened were probably Myno and Nanine, but a male voice had been the _voice of reason_. Sheila would be willing to bet that voice was Cam’s. “It’s been four days since that happened.”

Sheila blinked in surprise. She’d been unconscious for four days? To her it felt like only seconds had passed since she was in the tent battling Krondor’s magic.

“Micula assures me that you somehow nullified the magic, but it did its best to damage you before it was destroyed.” He looked incredibly sad as he stood and retrieved something from the other side of the room. With surprise, Sheila realized it was her purse. He fished out one of her compacts that he’d seen her use many times when putting on her eye makeup. Sheila’s eyebrows furrowed as she tried to figure out why he was retrieving that item. He held it in his palm as he turned to her. “Sheila… when you pulled Krondor’s magic into yourself, you not only pulled the spell magic that was consuming Illyria’s lifeforce, but you also pulled the magic that caused the injury to her face.”

He opened the small plastic case and held up the mirror that lined the inner cover. Sheila stared at herself in shock. She had sustained an identical injury to Illyria, a long jagged cut that started at her right temple and ran down her cheek, ending just above her chin. No wonder her face was hurting so much. And Darian had said that Illyria’s wound would scar, so hers likely would as well. She closed her eyes and nodded, gesturing for him to put the mirror away. Thankfully, she’d never considered herself a vain person, but still… the idea of being disfigured for life… would take some adjusting to.

She felt Darian’s fingers on her hair again, so she reopened her eyes and found him staring at her with an expression so loving that it almost hurt to see.

“Sheila McCarthy… you will always be beautiful to me. You hear me?” he said gruffly.

Tears pricked her eyes and she blinked rapidly to prevent them from falling. It was of no use, though. They slid down the sides of her face. The more she tried to hold them back, the faster they fell until she realized that she was sobbing. It really wasn’t the scar that caused this tidal wave. It was everything else… the damage she’d done to herself by playing with magic she was not ready for, the pain she was in, how she’d been feeling so estranged from everyone, her complete failure at normal life back in her world, failing to save Laric, losing Serena to Krondor, the death of Quiet Storm, and now a nebulous destiny that she knew she wasn’t ready to face.

Darian swept her up in a tight embrace.

“It’s going to be okay. We’re going to end that bastard and we’re going to live happily ever after, you and me. Just like those tales of the fairies you told me about.”

Sheila sniffled and managed to suppress a hysterical laugh because she knew it would hurt her throat and she didn’t want to risk Pelu’s ire. She held on tightly to Darian as he rocked her over and over, lulling her into a sleepy calm. Maybe if she didn’t have to do this alone, everything would be okay. It felt so good to be safe in Darian’s arms. Maybe she could nap here until she felt better. When she yawned, he lowered her gently back down to the bed.

“Sleep, love. We’ll talk more after you’ve rested.”

Sheila wanted to argue, but her fatigued body had other ideas as it slipped into slumber.

~*~

Flashes of moving images and sounds rolled by her consciousness at fast-forward speeds, so quickly that she could only register one out of every ten. Tylan kissing her in the alley, and Darian watching from a distance, a look of fury twisting his face. Sheila levitating above the former peak of a disintegrating mountain. Emmeran and Tylan arguing. Krondor frantically searching for something in a long dark corridor. Quiet Storm falling to his knees. Moonbeam issuing his battle cry. Zaria murmuring secrets into Krondor’s ear. Laric and Serena in chains covered with glyphs, huddled together in the dark. Karissa enraged and throwing bolts of energy at two women shrouded in mage robes and head coverings. Illyria throwing her dagger with deadly precision at Sheila’s chest….

Just when Sheila thought she would go insane from the relentless barrage of terrible visions, the images dissolved and the sounds faded. She suddenly found her mental landscape infused with warmth and a soothing violet light. Relieved and so, so tired, she sent a wave of gratitude towards whatever had liberated her from the incessant discombobulation of past, present, and future, and let herself float peacefully into oblivion.

~*~

The next time Sheila awoke, she found herself alone. The light through the window seemed markedly dimmer, so she assumed it was approaching dusk. She found a bowl of porridge and a glass of water on a tray next to her makeshift bed. Cautiously, she pushed herself into a sitting position and was relieved that she no longer felt the intense pain she’d experienced earlier.

She started with the glass of water, and when that didn’t hurt her throat and stayed down, she tentatively swallowed a spoonful of the porridge. While her throat was sore, it felt nowhere near the level of agony she’d felt before. Pelu’s remedies were no joke. She continued eating until the bowl was empty, then cautiously began to move her body, stretching and flexing her arms and legs. Again, she found soreness, but no sharp pains. She was especially grateful that her hands no longer sent searing pains whenever she touched anything. Now they merely looked sunburned and offered only a mild discomfort as she flexed her fingers.

Curious if her healing extended to her face, she reached over to her purse and pulled out her compact. She took a deep breath and opened it, her eyes flicking to her reflection. Damn. The scar was still there, although now it had faded from an angry red to a deep pink. Sighing, she clicked the compact shut and put it away. Memories of Darian’s reassurances provided some comfort as she collected herself. Besides, in this world, scars were considered a badge of honor. The thought fortified her, and she decided that it was time to get to her feet and join the others.

It took her a moment to keep her balance on the floor that rose and fell slightly with the swell of the water, but as long as she stayed close to a wall or something else to grab onto, she found she was able to move around with relative ease.

She opened the door to the room she was in and made her way down the hallway toward the sound of voices.

“Let him sleep,” Myno said to a soldier that Sheila didn’t recognize as she peered through the cracked doorway to a large stateroom.

“He’s scheduled on the duty roster for night watch,” the young man said, clearly not having any instincts for self-preservation, since he was arguing with Myno of all people. Sheila bit her lip as she heard Myno’s trademark grunt of annoyance. Sheila waited patiently for the dressing down she knew was imminent. Myno did not disappoint.

“Night watch!” she scoffed. “Elio, Darian’s been awake for nearly five days straight. If you think he’d be of any use in guarding this ship, then you’re even more of a fool than I thought.” Sheila winced alongside the soldier, who shuffled his feet but, to Sheila’s surprise, didn’t flee.

“Ma’am, I’m sorry, but Cam put me in charge of seeing the duty roster was followed.” Sheila nearly groaned at the young man’s folly.

“Ma’am?” Myno spluttered. “First thing, boy, I am nobody’s _Ma’am_. Secondly, who do you think is giving Cam his orders? Or are you one of those men who don’t recognize a woman’s authority?” Her tone turned dangerous, and Sheila wondered if she should intervene as she saw the soldier turn white and shake his head rapidly.

“No, Ma’a-, I mean, no… Myno… of course not. I mean, yes, I’ll-” He swallowed and began rolling up his list, clearly flustered. When he lingered, Myno took a step toward him.

“If you don’t get out of here this instant, I will show you just how sharp I keep my blade.” She rested her hand on the hilt of her sword. Elio’s eyes widened and he swallowed.

“I’ll just notify Cam of the change,” he said as he started backing towards the door.

“Wise choice,” Myno said to his back, and Sheila caught a hint of rare amusement in her eyes. However, it faded as quickly back to Myno’s trademark scowl.

Sheila pressed herself against the wall as Elio rushed past her. She was about to enter the room when what she saw stopped her in her tracks.

Myno sat heavily on a large wooden box and closed her eyes in what looked like weariness. Nanine, whom Sheila didn’t realize was in the room, sat down next to Myno and pulled her into the safety of her arms. In an unheard-of display of vulnerability, Myno rested her head on Nanine’s ebony shoulder. Nanine ran soothing hands up and down Myno’s back and Myno sighed.

“Everything will be okay,” Nanine murmured, reminding Sheila of Darian’s words to her just hours before. “We’ll get Laric and Serena back and all will be well again.”

Myno lifted her head and looked at Nanine with a tenderness that shocked Sheila. She’d never considered that Nanine and Myno…

“I never should have left them alone,” Myno admonished herself.

“You were following orders, just like the rest of us.”

Myno let out a mirthless laugh.

“And now we’re the ones giving orders.”

Nanine grimaced at the reminder, then sighed.

“I never wanted that for myself, even as a little girl…” Nanine said, reminding Sheila of the woman’s origins as a southern princess.

At Nanine’s emotion, Myno straightened and turned to comfort her.

“I know, my love.” Myno leaned in and placed a soft kiss on Nanine’s lips. Sheila hadn’t known Myno capable of that level of tenderness. The sight brought a flush of warmth and love to Sheila’s chest. Seeing the care between these two women, she couldn’t believe that she’d never noticed it before. To be fair, they didn’t generally show this level of relationship in front of the others, but as Sheila reflected on her time here since she’d arrived, there were clues that she’d neglected to pick up on: the tent that the two shared, how they always left the campfire for bed together, how they always sought one another for discussion above all others… it had been right there in front of Sheila’s face the whole time. It made her wonder what else she hadn’t picked up on in life due to her ignorance.

As the two women parted, Sheila realized that she needed to make her presence known. Standing there like a creep in the hallway wasn’t going to help her relationship with these women. She raised her hand and knocked gently on the partially open door.

Myno stood and greeted her calmly, not showing any care of whether Sheila had seen the interaction between her and Nanine.

“Welcome back to the land of the living.” She gave Sheila a hearty thump on the shoulder, and Sheila was glad that none of her injuries were centered in that part of her body.

“Uh, thanks. I think I’m lucky to be alive.”

“That’s because you are,” Micula’s voice called from the doorway behind her as she swept into the room, Tylan trailing behind her. Sheila instantly felt self-conscious of her face, and he didn’t help as he stepped up to her and raised a gentle hand to the scar.

“Does it hurt?” he asked, his expression unreadable.

“Not much. I feel a lot better than I did when I first woke up.”

“That’s because Tylan here spent half the day sending you more healing magic,” Nanine revealed. Sheila met Tylan’s gaze and gave him a small smile, remembering the familiar-looking violet light that brought her reprieve from her dream visions.

“Thanks for that.”

“My pleasure, Mags.” He smirked and crossed his arms over his chest as he gave her a once-over reminiscent of their first meeting. “Now you look fierce. I wouldn’t try messing with you…” His eyes twinkled. “Well, not for battle anyway…” His smirk turned into a full-on grin that Sheila couldn’t help but return.

“In my world we call this look _bad-ass_.”

“Mags, the bad-ass Mage…”

“Mage in training…,” she corrected, flicking a wary glance at Micula who didn’t look amused by their banter.

“That would imply that you are actually training with someone.” Micula raised an eyebrow at her.

Sheila was on the verge of asking the woman if they could resume their training, but other, more pressing questions interrupted her train of thought.

“Are we on our way to Perian?” she asked. Myno nodded and unrolled a map on a nearby table.

“Yes, we’re nearly there.” She pointed at a spot on the map that looked like the coast of modern-day Turkey. According to Cam, we should near landfall by morning.”

“We’ve been lucky,” Nanine added. “The wind has been with us. Basel reports that we’re less than a half-day behind the Princess Kaylani.”

“So he’s back from Perian?” Sheila asked as she lowered herself onto a nearby chair. Her stamina wasn’t yet up to par. Myno nodded and pointed back down to the map.

“He delivered our warning, and they are readying their forces. On his way back to us, he passed by Krondor’s ship. It should be nearing the gateway soon.”

“Gateway?” Sheila’s brows came together at the odd choice of words.

“Yes, it’s located here…” Myno pointed to an island off the coast of Perian labeled Kosa. Her eyes flicked to Tylan. Sheila could see the moment Myno realized that it was no use trying to protect this information from him any longer. With the loss of Serena to Krondor, their secrets would be revealed anyway. Myno huffed and continued. “This is the only place where one can travel into Perian. Of course, now it’s even further protected by the magic Laric and Micula performed, but before Dynasian, the gateway was left open to anyone who wanted to travel through it.”

Sheila still felt confused.

“So… if we were to sail directly to the mainland without going through this gateway, what would happen?”

“You’d end up in Lafalla, of course.” Nanine said, looking puzzled at Sheila’s confusion.

“Lafalla?”

“That’s the country located there when you travel by the land route,” Tylan answered. At Sheila’s obvious bewilderment, he pointed to Campora on the map and then trailed his hand northerly to the top of the _boot_ and then south-easterly across the continent until he stopped it right where Perian was listed on the map. “If you travel by land, the country here is called Lafalla.”

“Also, if you sail directly by sea without using the gateway,” Myno added.

“But if you go through this _gateway_ , the same land is a country called Perian?”

“Exactly.”

“But how…” Sheila tried to wrap her mind around that concept.

“Magic, of course,” Micula answered.

“Magic…” Sheila mumbled. It sounded awfully like something else to her.

~*~

As they approached the Kosa coast, Sheila ambled around the various rooms and decks of the sizable ship. She found that, incongruously, the more she moved, the better she felt. Up on deck, many of Laric’s soldiers assisted the ship’s crew with manning the sails and reading the ship for docking. After finding herself nearly stepped on several times, Sheila ducked back below deck to stay out of the way.

She peeked into the first small room in the hallway and saw Darian still slumbering in a hammock that rocked gently between two wooden posts. Her heart skipped at how much younger and peaceful he looked in his much-needed sleep, almost like the teen boy she’d once known. Sheila softly closed the door and left him to his rest.

The second room had no door. It looked to be the galley, with a short, wrinkled, rail-thin man stirring a large pot of savory-smelling stew while a younger lad wiped clean a large pile of dirty bowls.

“Aye, miss,” the older man greeted her. “I’m Cook Withers. Can I get you something?” Sheila was instantly charmed by the friendly man.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Sheila.” Her smile turned into a grin as her stomach growled loudly. The porridge from hours ago was long gone. “Just a little something would be great.”

Cook Withers began ladling out more than a little helping of stew into a clean bowl as he cocked his head back towards the young man. “Bart, get the lady some of that bread that we just pulled out.”

“But that’s for tomor-“

“That’s for whatever I say it’s for,” Cook Withers admonished Bart, then turned a winning smile back at Sheila. Bart grumbled, but complied and began cutting a hunk off a large loaf of bread that sat cooling on a nearby counter. “A lass has got to keep her strength up.” He gave her a wink as he handed her a wooden tray loaded with the stew, some bread, and enough butter to slather an entire loaf. Sheila hoped silently to herself that she could finish the meal. The last thing she wanted to do was insult her hosts.

She sat on a bench that lined the wall near the door and dug in, practically moaning at the flavor. After a diet of snake and rabbit and whatever they could cobble together on the road, this tasted like heaven. She threw an appreciative glance at the cook.

“Good?” he asked with hope in his eyes.

“Delicious!” she replied with a mouthful. His eyes danced with pride.

“See, Bart! I told you, the way to a pretty lady’s heart is definitely through her taste buds!”

Bart rolled his eyes behind the cook but seemed privately amused as he went back to his cleaning.

As Sheila hastily inhaled both the stew and bread, booning the latter into the meager remains of the former when a thought occurred to her. She looked up at Cook Withers, who was watching her, clearly delighted by her appetite.

“Have you ever been to Perian?”

“Oh, aye. Once when I was a wee lad. Canna say that I remember much about it though. Just a few specs a memory.” He tapped his head. “This ol’ noggin’s tired, ya see.”

“What few bits _do_ you remember?” Sheila leaned forward, interested in anything he could recall.

“Ah, well…” His face scrunched and wrinkled even further as he concentrated for a moment. “Oh!” he exclaimed and slapped his hand on the wooden counter. “The sky is purple, not blue like ours. I remember asking me ma ‘bout it. She told me that the magic makes it so. I told her, like so, I told her I wanted ta learn magic and go live with the faeries. She told me that if I learned magic I’d hafta go live with the Magi, but they’d never let me see her again. Well, that spelled it for me. No way was I gonna forsake me ma, no matter how much I wanted ta live with the faeries!” He chuckled with fondness   
at the memory.

Sheila smiled and looked over at Bart.

“How about you? Have you ever been?”

Bart shook his head and ducked it to avoid eye contact, resuming his cleaning duties.

“He’s only ever been on this ship,” Cook Withers answered for him. “Captain’s never taken her to Perian. But he’s loyal to the crown, so’s he’s agreed to ferry y’all.”

Sheila was pondering more questions about Perian as well as whether to ask for another bowl of stew when Jeno popped his head through the door.

“It’s time,” he said, excitement lighting his features. Sheila couldn’t blame him. She, too, was excited about the prospect of finally visiting the magical land of Perian. With a thank-you and a smile at Chef Withers and Bart, Sheila handed them her empty dishes, then hurriedly followed Jeno as he headed down the hall.

Sheila stalled for a moment at an open door she’d missed during her earlier ramblings. Inside this small room filled with supplies, Illyria sat on a large wooden cask. Her pale, injured face stared at the wall forlornly, her sword and whet stone forgotten in her hands. She must have heard Sheila’s intake of breath at seeing the scarred woman, though, because her head snapped toward the door. At the sight of Sheila, Illyria’s jaw flexed and anger flared to life in her eyes as her fingers tightened around the hilt of her sword.

 _Shit, she’s really pissed at me,_ Sheila realized. … _and she has a right to be…_ Sheila swallowed hard, trying to quell the surge of sadness that welled in her chest at the reminder of her culpability in Serena’s kidnapping, and at the notion that this woman that she’d once considered a sister might now hate her forever. Sheila tried to be brave, meeting Illyria’s blazing eyes and sending her a silent message… _I’m sorry. We will find her. I’m so, so sorry. All is not lost. I will go to the ends of your world and beyond to find her and bring her back to you…_

Yet her mouth could not move.

She stood motionless, unable to speak a word, just like Illyria.

Illyria broke the moment as she looked down and resumed sharpening her sword with shaking hands. The slide of metal on stone sent shivers through Sheila and she quickly stepped away from the doorway as the memory from her dream surfaced in her mind. Was that image an actual vision? Would Illyria actually try to cause her physical harm? She wasn’t sure, but she didn’t want to push an already fragile situation.

Sheila scrambled to catch up with Jeno as he ascended the stairs to the deck of the ship. The others, including a now-bright-eyed Darian, all stood, crowded around the port-side rail, and Sheila could see why. On their left, the island of Kosa rose majestically out of the water.

The island looked largely untouched by man. The side they approached seemed armored by sheer rocky cliffs that loomed hundreds of feet high. The land above the cliffs was covered in a thick forest of trees and vines leading to a volcano at the center of the island.

The ship began to veer toward the island, cutting through the crystal clear aqua sea. It seemed like the captain was steering them directly toward the impenetrable cliffside, and Sheila held her breath, wondering what she was missing. Nobody else seemed to be panicking, so she kept her concerns to herself and tried to be patient as she followed the group toward the bow of the ship. After riding the backs of unicorns and magical eagles, traveling via sailing ship seemed positively glacial. Then she saw it, the fissure at the base of the nearby cliff. It yawned it’s dark and menacing maw over a hundred feet high and double that width at the base.

“We’re sailing into that?” Sheila asked Nanine incredulously.

She nodded, her expression focused and serious.

“Yes, the gateway lies beyond.”

The water seemed incongruously smooth at the mouth of the opening, and as they sailed silently out of the sunlight and into the darkness, Sheila noticed how the sound of the sea became swallowed up into disorienting muted echoes once they entered what seemed to be an endless cave. She also noticed that it was pitch black, with hardly any external light making it inside. She was about to ask how the captain could possibly see, when Micula uttered a string of familiar words while raising her arms above her head. A dozen giant balls of fiery light rose up and floated ahead of the ship, illuminating the way.

Everyone on deck gave a collective gasp as the light refracted off the walls and high ceiling of the cave. The inside of the cave was covered in crystals, like they were floating inside a giant geode.

“It’s beautiful,” Lianne exclaimed.

“And powerful,” Micula added. “The magical energy stored in these crystals is unlike anything else in our world,” she said, directing her comment to Sheila. “There are other, much smaller natural formations that hold some power, but none like this. Or should I say, none like this used to be.”

“Used to be?” Sheila didn’t understand.

“Until Laric and I… _altered_ this cave, the gateway to Perian stood open permanently for anyone who wished to travel through it.”

“What did you do?”

“We pulled apart the pieces that naturally generated the gateway and hid them.”

Sheila tried to picture what Micula was describing, but her imagination failed her. “So… you just need to, what, reassemble them and the gateway reopens?”

“Exactly.”

“But once we travel through it, won’t it remain open?”

“Ah, that’s one of my more brilliant spells if I do say so.” Micula said, a rare excitement dancing in her eyes. “Once a single ship travels through, the pieces move back to their resting places until they are called again to reassemble.”

“What about the return trip?”

“There is a separate gateway for returning, on the Perian mainland,” Micula’s voice had lowered so that Sheila had to strain to hear, and she quickly reasoned why. She leaned in and whispered back.

“Does that mean that anyone who takes a ship there has to leave it in Perian and find transport home either by land or pay someone in Lafalla for a new ship to return over the sea?” Sheila’s eyebrows raised into her hairline. She couldn’t imagine that the captain of this fine ship would be amenable to that idea.

Darian, who had stepped up and caught their conversation, piped in.

“The captain is well aware of the situation. He’s been compensated handsomely, enough to buy ten new ships,” he reassured her. Then he lowered his voice. “Whether he’s informed his crew is another story.”

“And not our concern,” Micula said.

“How much farther?” Darian craned his head as he peered into the dark beyond Micula’s floating lights.

“We’re nearly there, just a few more minutes.”

“Will we be able to tell if Krondor’s passed through?”

Micula frowned.

“Not entirely. We can only assume. I sense the remnants of his magic in this cave. The fact that we didn’t see him on our approach, and he’s not currently inside with us, leads me to believe he traveled through.”

“So he could be on the other side waiting to attack us?” Myno said, having overheard their discussion.

“It’s possible, but I find it doubtful that he’d hang around on the off chance that we’d be following him,” Tylan said. It seemed all of the warriors and most of the soldiers were now listening to the discussion. “He’d want to head straight into Perian.”

“Still, it wouldn’t hurt to be prepared for anything,” Nanine said as she checked her weapons. “Everyone, make sure you’re prepared for battle,” she called to the crowd. Already armed, most of them merely nodded and rested their hands at their sword hilts.

The fire balls, which had been shining a blazing golden light, began to shift colors, first red, then blue, then green, and finally a deep violet.

“We’re here,” Micula called, the purple light reflecting off her high pale cheekbones. She began a new lengthy incantation, her voice dipping into a disturbingly low register. Sheila’s mouth dropped open as the water several hundred yards ahead of them began to churn and enormous rocks began to rise up out of the water. No, not rocks… sparkling crystals. There must have been over a hundred of them, all larger than Sheila’s Chevy, no two the same. They began to slot together like latticework, the purple light of Micula’s fireballs bouncing off their etched edges. The biggest 3D puzzle Sheila had ever seen slowly took shape, creating a half dome arching over the surface of the dark rippling water.

As the pieces moved one by one into place, Sheila noticed a hum begin to fill the cavern. As more pieces slotted into their homes, her skin began to buzz with the palpable energy that was emanating off the structure. She glanced a Micula and saw sweat on the woman’s upper lip as she directed the pieces with precise movements of her arms, hands, and fingers, like she was conducting an intricate orchestra.

The last dozen pieces hovered above their destinations as their ship glided silently closer. Micula suddenly pulled her fingers closed into tight fists and twisted her wrists, causing the final pieces to lower and lock into place simultaneously.

With a woosh, the face of the giant half dome began to glow with a familiar blue light. It pulled the water into it, and the ship’s speed increased tenfold. Everyone scrambled to maintain their balance at the abrupt change.

Sheila’s earlier suspicions crystalized to an understanding in her mind mere moments before the ship breached the edge of the blue light. She knew that light. She’d fallen through it five times in her life, to and from her home world. Perian was another world, just like Earth. This magical dome was a natural Molecular Transport Acceleration Device!

She turned to share this knowledge with Darian, but before she could, she found herself falling in a familiar sea.

A sea of stormy blue clouds.

Or, as Micula would say, a sea of magic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next stop, Perian!


End file.
